


Lost Your Way

by Lily_L_Jeyna



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: :), Allegiant ending AU, Also law, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Contains serious science, F/M, Fighting. Lots of fighting, Fluff, Heavy Swearing, Humor, Italics Overload, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Petris AU, Post-Book/Movie 3: Allegiant, Songfic, Tobias dies AU, and police shananigans, petris - Freeform, semi-songfic, so much law, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_L_Jeyna/pseuds/Lily_L_Jeyna
Summary: "And if you lost your way, I will keep you safe. We'll open up all the world inside, I see it come alive tonight. I will keep you safe."Post-allegiant AU, What if it was Tobias who died at the end of the third book? Heavy Peter/Tris, you have been warned. Rated M for swearing and suggested sexual assault, warnings will be posted at the start of each chapter if necessary.Reposted from fanfiction.net under Nerdy-Girl-No.319





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own and did not write the Divergent Trilogies, and consequently do not own any of the characters from the book.  
> I will also defend the ship Petris until I die. and if there's life after that, I'll defend it then.
> 
> Chapters will be updated once every two days until the content is up-to-date with current writing speed. Then Hiatus will begin.

Night shifts at the office are the worst.

Peter took another swig of coffee and stared back up at the screen as the time on the top right corner clicked into 2:07. This was so stupid. He'd worked here at the police office for two years and rose to a position with some degree of dignity, yet he still had to do weekly night shifts at the surveillance desk.

Pointless.

Peter had no idea what on earth he was doing with his life. He was told as the war ended that the security force was going to need large recruits to rebuild order and practically half the city. He was also told that talented young men like himself are more than welcomed to join the office, and that due to his special contributions during the war, he could start off on higher grounds and save himself from the parking ticket patrols.

Next thing he knew, he was stuck at the surveillance desk on a Wednesday night (or was it a Thursday morning) watching the time on the top right corner of the screen flash into 2:18.

To be fair, the evening border patrols were delightful, and the occasional crime fighting were thrilling. He got Mondays and Thursdays off and a favourite bar to go to. His paycheque was reasonable - plus the merits reward he got from the war was a rather large sum of money. A lot of people have it worse than him, he knew that.

But it was times like this on a Wednesday night (or was it a Thursday morning) Peter seriously wondered what he was doing with his life.

* * *

Peter was off his shift and strolling down the Belmont Avenue, feeling sorry for that poor bastard Albany who just took over his place at the surveillance desk when it started to drizzle a little bit.

It was four o'clock in the morning, mid-autumn. Which meant it was cold. He sucked in a large breath and felt little frost crystals forming on the linings of his lungs that instant. He did have a car at the police office that he could use, but he liked to have an excuse to walk about the city when no one was around.

Plus, it's not like he had an interesting life, or anything to do the next day.

He frowned when he saw the light still shining through from the bar just around the corner of his apartment. They were supposed to close at one in the morning every day, and kicked you out upon closing no matter how hammered you were. He strolled into it with his hands in his pocket, and cleared his throat at the the blond bartender who was busily typing away on his phone.

"Hey, Pete!" The bartender looked up and broke into a grin. Peter cringed mentally. He hated it when people called him that. "What brings you into here?"

"Hey, Anton, pal. Just coming home from a late night shift, you know how those are." He replied, and mirrored the bartender's nose-wrinkle-of-sympathy. "Don't you guy close at one?"

"Yeah, we do. But uh," Ansen tilted his hair to gesture at the blonde girl dozing on the counter two seats away, her face turned away from the two guys. "Nothing I did woke her, and it's not like I can lock the shop on her, you know?"

"Ah." Peter nodded in comprehension. "You should really stop feeding costumers alcohol when they look two seconds away from passing out." He teased.

"She looked fine the moment before, i swear. Anyways, it's not like I have anything to do with my life tomorrow. Can I get you anything?"

"A beer would be nice." Peter decided.

They were silent for the next ten minutes, as Peter sipped from the beer bottle and the bartender put away the cups, and occasionally went over to give the blonde girl another shove. She showed no signs of waking up.

"This is nice," Peter finally broke the silence, "You guys should open at four o'clock more often.

Anton laughed. "Our sole costumer would be police officers getting off their shifts. Would make a huge profit."

"Hey, there are plenty of us." Peter retorted, getting up. He slid the empty bottle back over the counter to Anton, and went over to the sleeping blonde girl. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail that was probably messy from all the passing out she had to do. He walked around to the other side to get a look at her face.

He froze when he saw it.

She slept so peacefully, like an angel. Her face had the usual ordinariness to it - the kind that never made you look twice in a crowd. But it suited her, and on her it looked unique. Her eyes were closed (obviously) and her eyelids masked the usual fierceness and burning fire in the depth of her soul. She was dauntless to the heart. Or once was. He hadn't seen her these past two years, not since the city gathering straight after the war.

She hadn't changed a bit, except for looking a little more worn and tired, and he couldn't believe she was right there, in front of him, asleep and still. His nemesis. The light to his dark. The kind to his malice. The nauseating pureness and stiffness that was the essence of Abnegation.

Beatrice Prior.

* * *

"Pete, mate, you alright?" Anton's voice shook him back into reality from whatever damned trance he was in. "You sort of just, froze, there."

He looked up at the bartender, his eyes lined with concern.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, before clearing his throat and pulling himself together. "It's just getting late. Tell you what, my apartment is just round the corner. Let me take her back up there and you can head on home."

It was a very tempting offer. Anton muttered some sort of half-hearted protest but Peter cut him off short quickly.

"Hey, you can trust me. Police officer, yeah? You can't stay here all night, anyways."

He exchanged a few "see you"s and "goodnight"s with Anton, picked Tris up in his arms and walked out the bar.

Peter was glad it was half past four in the morning, and the streets were empty, because he would have a hard time explaining why a guy in a cops uniform would walk down Belmont Avenue with a drunken girl in his arms.

In fact, he was having a hard time explaining that to himself in his mind right now.


	2. Tris

 

Tris woke up in a totally foreign bed that she does not recognise. Panic washed over her.

She vaguely remembered walking into the bar - she picked that one out specifically because it was far away from her apartment, to lower the risk of running into familiar faces. She remembered ordering strong liquor from a pale blond bartender. If she had been a normal person she would have thought he was cute, and maybe have flirted a little bit, hoping to be asked out.

But she wasn't a normal person. She was Tris.

Then, she thought she recalled asking for some more strong liquor, and when she tried to picture anything past that point, her head began to throb along her pulse. Eventually she gave up.

Tris stood up from the bed, hugely relieved that she seemed to still have yesterday's clothes on, and took two tries at walking shakily on her knees which felt like jelly. Then she gave up on that too and sat back down on the bed.

She inspected the room - she was sitting on a double bed with dark and light blue striped covers and plain, linen sheets. The other side of the bed seemed neat and not slept on, which assured her further. It wasn't a big room, there was a simple wooden closet and a small cabinet by the bed with a reading lamp on it. A carpet that matched the colour of the cover laid on the floor.

As she took in the unfamiliar surroundings, panic set in again in Tris' chest. This was the worst situation she could imagine herself in. She remembered the burning pain as she woke up at eleven, the feeling of suffocation as grief once again overwhelmed her. It had been two years and she still cannot acquire a peaceful night's sleep without being under the influence of sleeping drugs.

She remembered being furious. Furious at how the pain would not pass, like the others promised. Everyone lost someone to the war. She had seen everyone grieve, then moved on to find new lights in their lives as she watched them etch further and further away with their turned backs. Until the last of them left her standing still at exactly where she was, in total darkness.

She spotted the slightly ajar door that revealed a sink on the inside - great, the bathroom, Tris thought, before the sudden urge to vomit took over and she made a run for it.

After she puked up yesterday's lunch, she cleaned herself up and wandered around the house to locate its owner. _Whoever designed this apartment had no sense of logic whatsoever,_  Tris thought to herself as she turned around a sharp corner and saw the staircase. She walked down and heard the sound of something frying in a pan.

Someone with broad shoulders were at the open kitchen, frying some bacon over the fire. Strangely enough she thought she recognised these shoulders and the way he moves, and strangely enough she did not like the way they made her feel.

When the person turned around, Tris immediately knew why.

The two locked eyes, and anger swelled in Tris' lungs.

* * *

" _What are you doing here?_ " Tris screamed, knowing her vocal chords would be making her pay for this for days to come. She took huge strides towards the man still holding the pan with sizzling bacon, and connected her fist with his chest. Damn, the guy had definitely been working out.

"Whoa. Okay." Peter Hayes replied with such a surprising level of calmness, it came out almost cold. "Let's take this away from the open fire, shall we?" He said, while putting a strong hand on both Tris' shoulders and guided her away from the kitchen counter and into the dining area.

Perhaps the distant tone Peter used rubbed off on her, because she no longer wanted to yell. "What are you doing here?" She breathed through gritted teeth, her voice icy as well.

"Um, well, I kind of live here?" Peter replied with a condescending look in his eyes that made her want to rip his skin off.

"Okay, well," She tried again, a lot more deflated, "What am  _I_  doing here?" All the fury seemed to have drained out of her as quickly it came. She felt her face flushing and burning with embarrassment as the mental image of Peter carrying her drunken body crept into her mind.

"Oh yeah, about that, you passed out at the bar and I brought you up here when they closed." He said, waving his hand as if this was some trivial thing he forgot to mention, like the fact that he saw a ladybug on his window the week before.

"You brought me here? To your house? What gave you the right to just bring up random people —"

"Whoa! Okay. Before you go all judgy-face on me, need I remind you that you're the one who got drunk on two glasses of whiskey and passed out for five hours? In a bar twelve blocks away from your apartment? Anyone could have easily took you anywhere and had their way with you. So a little appreciation would be nice."

Tris couldn't believe what she was hearing. Appreciation? The last thing she wanted was to look at his face right now, much less waking up in his house. The living reminder of the war, of the years of teasing she suffered, and what he did in Dauntless… There was also something unsettling about the way he knew all the details about her. Had he been stalking her?  _Oh god, he couldn't have been_.

He must have seen the look flash across her face, because he quickly added, "I picked up your info-file at the police office this morning."

That sentence raised more questions than it answered, really. But Tris did not allow herself the time to go through it in her head right now.

"Don't ever let me see your face again." She grabbed the front of his shirt, pressed her face up close against his (which was hard to do, since she was so much shorter than him) and whispered with all the hatred she could muster. When she let go, Tris was disappointed to see that Peter had not seemed at all alarmed, only largely amused by her meek attempt to threaten her.

Humiliated, she turned and stormed out of the door and took the stairs down onto the busy streets.

She wondered what time on earth it was.


	3. Peter

A week later, Peter was putting together a spaghetti meal in the evening when he heard a knocking on his door.

It had been a good week. He'd already put all thoughts of Tris behind him. He had been going over the old files they dug up from a pile of documents in the Bureau with cold crimes and murder cases that he had been put in charge to re-categorise. Then there was the engagement party of Drew and Molly, which was more than awkward since he hadn't seen the either of them in for at least six months.

Another knock. Oh, right, the door. He went down and opened it and on the other side was the last person he'd expected to see.

Okay, maybe not the absolute _last_ person, which would have been maybe Tobias, who died two years ago. Or Al, who killed himself while in Dauntless after attempting to murder Tris. Tris. Which reminded him that she was standing right here, in his hallway, with tears brimming in her eyes, looking completely helpless.

The sight confused Peter. 'Tris' and 'cry' was not something you tend to put together in one sentence. 'In front of' and 'Peter' was definitely not something you added to that sentence. Uncertainty washed over his brain as he opened his mouth to say something and cover it up.

That something just happened to be something obnoxious and mocking, because hey, if there's one thing Peter Hayes excelled at, right?

"Oh, great. So I let you spend the night here once and you think I am available for all your weepy problems?" He let out.

Immediately he'd regretted it. Peter winced internally as surprise took over Tris' face and was soon replaced by hurt. Her expressions twisted into a pitiful sob before she turned on her heels and ran off.

"Tris wait, wait." Peter sighed and called after her, more for himself than for her to actually hear. He grabbed a coat as he left and prayed to god his had his keys in its pockets. Tris was fast. Even with a year of Dauntless trainings and two years of police force training with him, it took him a while to catch up with her and grab her right shoulder to turn her around. By which time they were already on the second floor landing. He noticed how she refused to meet his eyes.

"I panicked, okay?" He said, not unkindly but the words came out a little stiff. Stiff, he thought inwardly, how ironic. "I didn't know what to say. So I thought I'd open up with a joke first."

Peter reached out to Tris hesitantly and pulled her into a clumsy hug, robotically patting her hair as she sobbed openly into his arms. He wondered how on earth he ended up on a situation like this.

Was it something he did? Maybe he jinxed himself by thinking about her too much the month before? No, that couldn't be it. He'd cut off all connections with her and her lot after the war. It must just be the cruel hands of Fate twisting its moustache and screwing with him for kicks. Well the cruel hands of Fate certainly did a flawless job, because he was currently standing on a second floor landing with a crying Beatrice Prior in his arms.

Five minutes had past and Tris showed no sign of stopping. So Peter decided to scoop her legs up with the arm that had been hopelessly patting her golden hair, and carry her up the stairs, marvelling at how much lighter she was sober, before she dehydrates herself.

* * *

"So you wanna tell me what all that was about?"

It was forty-seven minutes later, Peter had gotten Tris to calm down, wash up and eat the spaghetti that he'd made earlier on for himself while he munched on a last second makeshift sandwich instead. The two had been sitting in silence for pretty much twenty minutes now, Tris pushed her food around her plate with her fork and occasionally took a bite, and Peter stared at Tris doing that, slipping a longing glance from time to time at his spaghetti.

Tris put down the fork and took a deep breath. "I overheard Christina talking to my brother today." She started evenly.

Familiar faces were brought back into his mind. Christina, Tris' best friend. Her short, jet black hair and dark skin. With a constant smirk on her face not dislike his own. Caleb, Tris' brother, whom he got on pretty well with when they shared a dorm during their time at the Bureau. Caleb with his dark brown hair and fair skin, brown-green eyes which he often squinted with a superior look matched with a discontented pout.

"I was supposed to meet them down in the canteen," Tris' voice brought him back into reality. "I came down a little late, and heard Caleb asking about how I was doing. She started ranting about how I wasn't getting any better and how it's tiring to live with me and my constant nightmares. That I was still a mess."

Tris' voice became more high-pitched and raised, it was evident that she was getting upset.

"You don't think I'm still a mess, do you?" She turned to Peter abruptly.

Yuh-huh! "No." He said with a shrug. She looked at him expectancy, obviously waiting for him to elaborate.

"You've been thorough a lot." He continued in a monotone, trying not to show too much affection, "It's not easy losing someone you love dearly, or to cope with all you've been through. Plus, it's not like you had a wonderful life up until that point. Not a whole lot of people have been through what you have. So just because people don't see this doesn't mean the struggle isn't there."

There was an awkward silent pause when Tris resumed eating. A moment later she spoke again, this time her voice was barely a whisper.

"Who knew two years from now I would be upset over something Christina said, and Peter would be here to comfort me?" She said, a small smile framing her lips. He found himself on the verge of grinning, too, before stopping and wondering what the hell this girl was doing to him.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." He said rather aggressively.

A look of pure confusion washed over the girl's face, not expecting the sudden change in attitude. Peter sighed, and took away the empty plate in front of Tris and dumped it in the sink.

"Don't you have your own place to go to?" He asked her, a little more softly.

Tris winced. "I live with Christina." She explained.

Man, he can't seem to catch a break, can he? "Oh, well, in that case, would you like to stay here tonight?"

Tris' face lit up as she nodded, then quickly added an "If that is okay with you," for polite purposes.

He directed her up to the bathroom to take a shower, apologising for the male shampoo, and picked out some t-shirts and boxers for her to use as pyjamas. He listened to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, and put his palm to his face.

Oh dear god, what did he do to end up in this situation?

* * *

A piercing scream ripped through the building.

Peter jerked awake on his couch, breathing heavily. He got up and ran towards Tris' room (no, he corrected himself, HIS room that she borrowed, for one night only), and found her sitting up on the bed, hugging her chest. Peter finally understood what Christina meant by 'still a mess'.

" _Jesus Christ_ ," he yelled, not out of anger but more because of the shock. " _I thought you were getting murdered or something in here!_ "

Tris looked up for a brief second, then put her face in her hands and began to cry softly.

Oh great, Peter thought, twice in one night, he's really pro at this. He got up silently after a moment and walked into the kitchen, where he poured a glass of water. He took a sip out of it, before remembering that this was not meant for him to drink.

This was going to be a long night.


	4. Christina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christina's last name doesn't seem to have been mentioned in the books, so I borrowed from Zoe Kravitz, who portrayed her in the movies.

It was only eleven in the morning and Christina had already dropped two beakers, poured calcium hydroxide when she was supposed to pour copper sulphate into the ammonia container, and overheated the distillation system.

"Why don't you take your lunch break early, Miss Kravitz?" Lyall sighed and asked her in a tired tone.

Since the war had ended, Caleb had been offered a place at the former Erudite research lab along with other recruits from his faction. He quickly rose to a powerful position with his intelligence and ability to suck-up to people, and hired Christina here as his lab assistant. ("I would ask Tris," he explained once, "but she is too mentally unstable to handle this"). All this week, however, Caleb had to file some quarterly reports at the office, and she had been re-allocated into James Lyall's department of research.

Christina's face fell when she heard him dismiss her. She was practically the only non-Erudite in the whole building. Everyone else here was either from the faction or once was, or at least was a descendant of a former member. It wasn't so bad when she worked for Caleb. She knew him well. But now with Lyall, who was a lot more important and unfriendly than Caleb, she felt out of place and awkward.

"I'm - I'm sorry, sir." She apologised quickly while staring at the floor. "I promise I'll be more careful."

Lyall shot Christina a disapproving glare and chucked a box of copper oxide powder into her arms. "Go reduce these, then."

The truth was, she was in no shape to concentrate. Tris had not returned all night the second time this week. She was getting tired of taking care of her only to watch her slowly wasting away. More and more frequently she would come home to their apartment only to find Tris passed out on the floor, reeking of alcohol.

What was worse was her nightmares. The blood-curdling screams that would come almost every night, sometimes twice or even thrice. At first Christina would rise and go to Tris' room. She would sit by her and tell her that she was there. She would attempt to hold her and pat her while she thrashed about her bed. Eventually she gave up, and learnt to stay in her room and let Tris scream herself to sleep. To shove a pillow over her head and pretend it's not happening. To stop trying to make sense of her incoherent mumbles of terror.

She grew more and more frustrated. She yelled at Tris to stop the drinking, and see someone about her problems, only to have her yell back and insist she didn't want to talk about it. Instead she would get wasted and pass out again, leaving Christina drained, exhausted and worried sick.

Distracted, Christina casually let the tray of freshly washed beakers slip out of her hands and hit the white tiled floor with one loud, embarrassing clatter. Lyall exhaled dramatically from across the room.

"Really, Miss Kravitz." He drawled menacingly, "please consider taking your lunch break now. We will pick up from here in two hours."

Christina felt her face blushing a deep shade of red as she ducked her head and fled the lab, her heart pounding in her ears.

* * *

After the war ended, a lot of the apartments were reconstructed hastily to accommodate as many people in as short amount of time as possible. Most apartment buildings had no gas lines, therefore no kitchen. They had promised that those would be installed when the city had returned to stability, but it's been two years and still nothing happened. The previous amity grounds thus became a huge public canteen that provided breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was the central spot of the city where everyone gathered at before heading to work each day. If you needed anyone, chances are you can find them here somewhere.

Tris was supposed to meet Christina and Caleb here yesterday after work, like they'd always done. When she hadn't showed up, however, she wasn't very worried, but merely thought she had passed out on the couch back in their apartment. Tris normally didn't start drinking until around six, but with her conditions, who knows what happened this time. Then she shot a few more work-related remarks back and forth with Caleb, parted ways with him after dinner and headed home. Then she waited, and waited, and Tris never came home. She phoned Caleb who reassured her that she could take care of herself and she probably wasn't in danger, then she tucked herself into bed and fell soundly asleep. Only to wake up the next morning to find her bed completely empty and not slept-on.

When she had finished her boxed lunch and took a stroll down at the park in the late October air, Christina headed back up to the research building. Not many people noticed her as she walked through the white corridors, only a few stared at her with burning gazes and a hidden smirk at the corners of their mouths.

She returned to the lab and saw that the mess she made had already been cleaned up. She picked out the lab coat with the initials C.M.K scrawled on with marker pens and set about doing some routine cleaning - picking up the boiling tubes from their drying racks and returning them into the drawer, then rinsed out the burettes with deionised water. She was grouping together clamp stands when two pairs of footsteps echoed down the hall.

"—incompetent and lacking skills!" Lyall's voice spat as he emerged through the clear glass walls of of the lab. Another man with dark brown hair followed. Christina felt a falling feeling in her chest. Caleb. No doubt James Lyall was talking to Caleb about the deeds of his lab assistant. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass him in front of his colleagues.

The pair of men walked through the door. Caleb looked up at her and smiled an encouraging smile. she searched his eyes for disappointment, concern, anger. But there were none.

"You'll be with me this afternoon, Christina," he said with a light tone, "we'll be filing the final reports to various departments. You can drop off your coat in my lab on the way."

Christina exhaled silently, feeling so much more relieved. She nodded and followed him out silently, feeling her face relax. Caleb turned around at the door.

"Have a good day, Mr. Lyall, and I look forward to hearing about your research." He said with a nod. Christina felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she considered adding an apology about the beakers, but Caleb gave him an eye that told her not to.

They walked silently down the halls, taking a few turns occasionally. It was a big building.

Tris had out for a little while the year before, after dating this former Candor two years older. They had been going out for four months or so, then he suggested her staying with him in his apartment that was bigger than theirs, since she stays there most of the nights anyways. That was the brief time where she had been actually happy. There were lights in her eyes and everything. Then, one night she showed up again at her doorstep, with nothing but a small suitcase and the things she wore with her. Christina never found out what happened, Tris refused to talk about it at all. In fact, she refused to allow her or Caleb to go back to his apartment to retrieve the rest of the stuff that she left behind in a rush. The nightmares and drinking had gotten way worse after that. It was almost like she was traumatised from her experience with him more than everything that happened before.

"So I take it Tris hasn't come home yet, has she?" Caleb's casual voice intercepted Christina's though train. This is what she liked about him. He was understanding. He didn't ask why she made a fool of herself and him in front of Lyall, or what her problem was. He knew, and more importantly, he understood.

"No." She replied, a little more flatly than intended.

A strong hand crept up her arm and wrapped itself around Christina's shoulders. "She's a big girl, Chris. She can take care of herself."

Caleb usually always had a way of making her feel better. But this time, somehow, it didn't work.

"I have the strangest feeling that she heard us yesterday." She said, and that was it. She had finally voiced her biggest concern. She always felt so guilty for being annoyed with her and complaining. Tris had been through so much more than most of them had, and more than she let on. Christina could not understand what was going on inside her head. It's not like she didn't try, either. She tried so hard to be a good friend, but sometimes when nothing seemed to work, she could feel the annoyance and anger gnawing at her uncomfortably. Caleb understands. He told her that she had a right to feel this way, that just because Tris is hurting doesn't make her any less of a pain in the neck. But she always found it hard to believe him.

More uncomfortable silence. They had stepped into the office by then and Caleb started to pull out sheets of paper and parchment folders from his drawer. He laid them out on the opposite side of his working desks and pulled in another chair.

"If you could put one copy in each file and address them to their respective departments, that would be wonderful." He explained, laying down a marker pen in front of her.

* * *

When Christina and Caleb finished their day's work and headed down to the canteen, Christina was both relieved and furious to see Tris already there, eating her mushu pork and rice dinner.

"Where have you been?" She hissed at her, "I was worried sick! You drove me crazy!"

"I spent the night at a friends house." She replied evenly.

"And you couldn't bother with sending a message?"

"It wasn't planned."

"Let's go get food first." Caleb interrupted just as Christina was about to say something more. He pulled her aside rather forcibly, causing her to stumble a little bit.

"What?" She demanded after they have gained some distance fro Tris.

"Seriously, Chris," Caleb chuckled softly, "You're behaving like somebody who had not spent the past two years living with her."

"What do you mean?" She asked, crossing her arms defensively.

"Surely you realise that the more angry and accusing you are, she's just going to fire it back at you." He said with one of his classic condescending looks that yells "Duh!"

She resisted the urge to smack him in the face and took a deep breath. "Okay," she retorted as they stepped into the queue and picked up a tray, "You're not the one coming home and finding her passed out from alcohol. You're not there when she throws one of her rage fits, or when she refuses to come down to eat for days. You don't hear her screams at night, or see her empty eyes when she shuts down for hours and get goosebumps. So, mister, I don't think you get an opinion about how mad I am with her."

Caleb opened his mouth to say something in his or his sister's defence, but she cut him off before it came. "Whatever approach you are taking, it's not working, okay? You can't just lean back and watch her try to get better on her own like some ant in a box, okay? It's just not the way it works, and you are not helping which makes me exhausted because I am the only one trying to fix her."

He shut up after that, when they picked up their food and gathered cutleries. They walked with their trays silently back to where Tris sat. As soon as they sat down, Christina exploded.

"What you did last night, Tris, was not okay. The least you could do is to give me a call and tell me where you are so I wouldn't worry and think something happened to you!"

"We're roommates, Christina. I am not obliged to tell you anything." Tris replied with an annoyed tone. "Other people do sleepovers all the time. It's no big deal."

"It's no big deal for normal people, Tris! You are not normal people!"

Tris tried to hide the wince from her face, but she saw it anyways. She knew she was going to regret this, but at the moment she pressed on.

"I have always been here for you, Tris, for two years! You are not getting any better and it's really tiring to look after you and cover your ass the entire time. You have got to start seeing someone about these problems. And the least you could do is to call me when you plan on being somewhere else to inform me that you are sober and safe, don't you think?"

At this, Tris smiled with dripping sarcasm.

"Is that what you call it? Looking after me? Covering my ass? When you pretend that you don't hear me at night in the room right next to yours? When you don't even try to cover up your 'Oh here we go again' look whenever I have a panic attack? When you leave me in a corner for hours and go somewhere else and ignore me because you are not in the mood to do anything? If your idea of helping is yelling at me to not do something and pretend it's not happening then I don't need it. And you're not 'stuck with me', okay? You can leave whenever you want, you don't have to take this 'second job that doesn't pay' and I am not 'like a newborn infant with anger isuues'!"

It was Christina's turn to wince. She had heard her talking to Caleb yesterday. She was quoting the rant.

"The thing is, Christina, it's either you care, or you don't. You can't be both. So might as well pick one now and stick with it."

They both looked at Christina expectantly, and she realised that they were actually asking her for an answer. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

She cared. She cared a lot. Tris was her best friend for a long time and they have been through so much together. She hates to see her hurting like this, and she is worried that she will never get better. She wishes she could share some of this pain or make it go away. She wants her to be happy.

But just as she opened her mouth again to say so, Caleb's words came echoing back to her. However hard she tried, it gets fired back in her direction again. Tris is like a rock, she refuses to be helps and shuts herself out of this world repeatedly. "She's a big girl, Chris." She could hear Caleb telling her this over and over again when she frets over her, only to receive her rage fits in return. She doesn't appreciate her doing this. Anger began to throb in Christina's chest.

"I'm sorry Tris. I don't." She answered with a surprisingly icy voice. "I'm tired of running around after you, sweetie. I really can't care anymore."

Tris chuckled softly, picked up her tray and left. Caleb started at the both of them, dumbfounded. Christina watched as Tris' blonde hair flashed in the crowd of the canteen and disappeared, and it took exactly four seconds before all the regret came flooding in.


	5. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Character may seem a bit OOC in this chapter as there had been a big gap between the writing of this one and the previous chapter. It gets better later on.

Peter couldn't take his mind off that damned girl for the entire past two weeks.

The first time he hadn't given it much thought. Mainly due to the fact that she had been unconscious for most of the night, and he had been so tired. But this time both of them were awake and sober, he couldn't stop conjuring up the memory of her looking up at him with wide, teary eyes.

As if he was her world. As if he had never tried to kill her. As if they always got along and was never the arch-nemesis that they were.

He hasn't heard from her all week. _She's probably forgotten all about you,_ he thought to himself, _she was upset and didn't think straight, she went to you to get back at her friends, then realised what she had done and left. She was probably ashamed of it for an hour, then went on to put it all behind her, leaving you getting all pathetic and worked up over a stupid little stiff, he scolded himself internally._

It was only five in the afternoon. He had just changed out of patrol uniform and gotten out of the shower. Peter dug around for a pair of jeans, a clean white shirt and a navy pullover. It was way too early, but since he was bored out of his mind, he decided that he would wander downstairs and pay the bar a visit.

It was relatively quiet - not many people like to come to these types of places at this time of day. Peter spotted one of his colleagues in the corner, engaged in what sounded like a very heated phone conversation. They nodded in acknowledgment to each other's presence, and that was all.

He sat down at his usual spot directly behind the counter, and waited for Anton to come by when he noticed him bickering with a very familiar looking blonde girl.

"This is ridiculous. Last time was a mistake! It was late!" The girl protested. Anton sighed and shook his head, then, noticing Peter, waved towards him.

Tris whizzed around and spotted him. "Peter!" She exclaimed, expecting him to come to the rescue. _Oh, great,_ Peter thought and sighed internally.

"Tell this guy that I can totally order another round of whiskey."

Peter snickered. "I think I'm going to have to go with Anton on this one, stiff." He responded, purposefully putting an emphasis on his old nickname for her. If Tris was offended or even noticed, she did a good job on not showing it. "We'll take two beers." He then offered, giving up. Tris rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as he pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.

As Anton passed them two warm beer bottles and two glass mugs, Peter watched Tris closely as she ignored the cup, took her bottle, put it directly up to her lips, tossed her head back and chugged the liquid down her throat. She wasn't new to this, he was sure. It confirmed her suspicion that Tris was in more serious troubles than she cared to let on.

Sighing deeply, Peter leant forward and raised his arm, gently placing a hand on her own that grasped the bottle. She looked at him, annoyed.

"Not you, too." She complained.

_Oh, so it's not just me that sees the problem._

"There's also Christina and Caleb, they're like overprotective parents sometimes." Tris continued.

_Holy fuck, this girl can read thought!_

"Maybe they have a point." Peter shrugged, uncomfortable with the idea that he was admitting that Candor big-mouth and Mr. Suck-up were right about something. "Even crazy drunk Al at my office couldn't chug a bottle as aggressively as that."

"I like the feeling," Tris protested. "it makes my problems go away."

"No it doesn't. It makes you forget your problems while creating new problems until you wake up and find yourself drowning in an epic historical soup of problems, problems and liver problems."

"Look at you, going all alcohol-free hippie on me." Tris spat back. "You're worse than them."

They sat in awkward silence, glaring at each other. Peter just admit that Tris has her own unique way of wearing him out that he can't quite put his fingers on.

He lifted his wrist to take a glance at the time, before realising that he must have forgotten his watch in the bathroom. He twisted his jumper sleeve uncomfortably, wondering why the hell he felt so exposed without the damned thing. The stiff's dagger glares probably had something to do with it.

"Hey, Anton," he called at the bartender, "what's the time, mate?"

"Five twenty." Came the swift reply from the blond without even looking up from the cocktail shaker he was working on. Peter turned towards Tris.

"Tell you what, no more alcohol and I'll take you out for dinner, deal?"

Tris snorted derisively. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

This was a bad, bad idea. Why couldn't he have stayed at home and watched some crap TV? Why couldn't he turn away and not cared if she wanted another damned glass of whiskey or something? Why couldn't he have had a perfectly civil conversation with her, stand up, said "Well this had been nice, Tris Prior, have a nice evening" and left?

Peter could feel his cheeks starting to burn. Damn it. He was a respected police officer of the city, ex-dauntless initiate and highly skilled in combat of all forms, and he. does. not. blush.

"You wish, stiff," he shot back, mirroring the same condescending tone she'd used, "just a perfectly normal, platonic dinner, don't read too much into it." He decided.

"Since when did we do anything platonic?" Tris pressed.

Well shit, girl, you couldn't just leave it alone, could you?

"How about since you showed up at my house unannounced, weeping like a kicked puppy, and ate all my spaghetti?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Peter feared that he may have gone too far. Luckily for the both of them, Tris managed to keep her composure after just a tiny flinch. She shrugged.

"Fair enough. Meet back at your apartment at six?"

"'Kay." He muttered, draining the last drop of beer from his bottle. "Wear something nice." He added as an afterthought as they stood up and made for the door. Tris pulled a 'pretending to be worried face'.

"We're not going anywhere romantic, are we?" She whined.

Peter laughed as a response, heading back up to his apartment, wondering what was on earth was wrong with him and why he was secretly excited.


	6. Tris

_Laughing._

She couldn't remember ever having laughed so hard before.

In fact, she couldn't even remember what they were laughing at, as they raced up the street to the bottom of Tris' flat, gasping for breath desperately as their chests were bombarded by waves of giggles, hiccoughs, and pants from sprinting their legs into oblivion.

The strange thing is how this felt so _right_. Like she'd finally found the part of her that has been missing this whole time. Like she'd finally found a way to begin to fill the hole that's been eating at her body for so long. Like she'd finally found the path, the light to guide her out of that godforsaken, bottomless pit.

She stopped at the foot of the building, slowly regaining control over her respiratory system. She grinned up at the man stood in front of her.

"This is me." She breathed.

"Alrighty then." Peter replied, grinning down at her equally widely.

It was amazing how the fit of euphoria had left her as easily as it came, as reality crashed down on her like a bucket of ice water. Peter. _What was she doing?_ She thought, as panic began to settle in her chest.

Then, a strange, nauseating feeling wriggled beneath Tris' skin. The most curious and poisonous mix of fear that she was playing with fire, guilt of somehow betraying her friends, betraying Tobias by reaching out for Peter Hayes, regret of ever letting herself loose in a moment of weakness and confusion of what on earth she was hoping to achieve by her own actions.

"Tris? You alright?" A voice laced with concern pulled her back to reality. Tris realised she must have been sporting a light frown as her mind worked furiously to untangle her thoughts.

"Yeah," she managed, shaking her head slightly as she forced out a small smile. "Just tired is all. Tonight's been great."

Tris cringed internally, she had not meant for this to come out this genuine. Strangely enough, though, she had meant it.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. We should do this again sometimes." Peter suggested, "get reacquainted, hang out a bit."

_No. No, please don't ever come near me again or I swear to God I'll—_

"Yeah! Yeah that'd be nice."

"Well, here's my card," Peter smiled as he pulled out a business card from his pocket, "granted, it's my office number, but I spend so much time in that particular circle of hell, it may as well be my personal number anyways." He chuckled.

_Push it away, tear it apart in the face, make it clear you don't want anything to do with him ever again—_

Tris snorted lightly as she took the card from Peter, her fingertips slightly toughing his in doing so, sending involuntary shots of electricity up her arm and spine. She cursed herself silently.

"Have a good evening, Tris." Peter said, his voice dropping to a bare, husky whisper.

He reached out to tuck a lock of shoulder-length hair behind her ears while looking straight into her eyes. Tris felt herself smile shyly, reaching up to touch the same ear, as if he'd manage to render her flustered, transform her into her old, 15 year old, clumsy, Abnegation self.

"You too, Peter." She whispered, looking at the pavement between her toes. They froze awkwardly for a moment before Tris turned and fled up the stairs, not once glancing up at him, blushing furiously.

* * *

"So? Who was he?"

Tris jerked up her head at Christina's voice, startled. They had been sitting in silence for the past hour and a half, to say the least.

Since the row they had two weeks ago in the canteen, the two roommates seemed to have fallen into an awkward yet strangely comforting routine. They barely talked to each other aside from letting each other know that they're going out, working late, in need of milk, et cetera. In a way it was a relief as neither felt obliged to push themselves out of their comfort zones to comment on the elephant in the room that is Tris' drinking problems or nightmares or Christina's irritation about the drinking problems and nightmares.

But it had also been cold, so cold, and so alone, especially as early December began to settle in, pushing out the bright golden autumn glory.

"Who?" Tris asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You know who. The guy you were talking to downstairs, earlier tonight."

"Oh, him," Tris answered, relieved that she knew that Christina didn't see enough to _know_ , "just a friend."

"Didn't know you had those anymore." Christina shot back.

Tris flinched. Not at the blunt insult, but because if this was before, she would have pegged it for banter and shot back a retort. Now the conversation just felt forced, stiff.

Christina, apparently realising she had stepped out of some invisible, mutually agreed upon line, quickly changed the subject.

"Tris, _he was tucking back your hair._ "

Tris felt her heart flutter just a tiny bit. "Friendly gesture."

"I hope so." Christina paused, probably unsure of if she should press on or not. "Just…be careful, okay?"

The two girls' eyes met and they shared some form of silent conversation, reaching upon a silent agreement. Tris dipped her head by way of a nod.

"Okay." Tris said, before heading up to her bedroom to sleep. She was exhausted, and quietly prayed that she would be granted a peaceful night.

If only it had been that easy.

* * *

_The darkness wasn't like any other that Tris had known. It had too much coldness for her liking. She could feel it penetrate her clothes, ripping through her flesh and cutting her as deep as the bones._

_Tris shivered. She felt so light, and so heavy at once. She was suffocating, not because there was no air, but because she couldn't remember how to breathe. Then, as she summoned all her strengths to draw the atmosphere into her lungs, pure agony shot through her like an icy claw. She doubled over, clutching at her middle._

_She walked around aimlessly, an unfamiliar roaring grew louder in her ears and around her. The atmosphere was low, damp and depressing. Tris hugged herself tighter and stumbled on._

_"Hey, blossom." A robotic, unfeeling voice called out behind her._

_Tris whizzed around as goosebumps was sent all down her spines as she recognised the sound. The unwelcoming sound that she dreaded to hear. It was once said with so much love, so adoringly, so softly. But as she had been heading down into the realms of the unconscious almost nightly recently, the voice and its owner had been twisted into something horrible, unforgivable and almost monstrous._

_A figure emerged from the shadows, it was tall, slender. Footsteps echoed her own heartbeat and matched the rhythm of his approaching._

_"Come here, blossom." He called, the command seemed to be enveloping her, coming from her left, right, front, back, top, even the ground. There was no escape._

_Tris turned and tried to run away only to trip over a large hoodie that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. She startled scrambling backwards on the floor frantically, working her legs as fast as she is able, softly shaking her head up at the figure._

_"What is it, blossom?" He asked, "Don't you want this?"_

_His voice seem to echo boundlessly, spreading out in a mocking tone._

_"Don't you want this?"_

_"Don't you want this?"_

_"Want this?"_

_"This?"_

_The figure extended an arm towards Tris, except at the end of the arm, where the hand should have been, were long, thin talons that curled slightly as it loomed closer._

_"No, no, no…" Tris murmured as they approached…_

* * *

She woke up panting.

She had recently found out that if she took a large enough glass of water right before sleep, she could stop the screams from coming when she woke up. So far this had been effective.

On the other side of the room, Christina shifted in her bed.

Tris squeezed her eyes shut, the hushed echo of _his_ voice still lingered in her brain. She forced herself to calm down, drawing deep breaths while counting the seconds just as Caleb had taught her.

Besides her the phone ringed loudly, nearly sending her rolling off the bed. The screen lit up with a number unknown to her.

"Balloon day+picnic at the park on Monday, coming?"

She ran through all the possible senders in her head, it didn't take her long before she tentatively tapped out a reply.

"Peter?"

Pause, for 30 seconds before the phone 'ding'ed again.

"Yeah, sorry. Realised I forgot to get ur number so asked the people the office."

Tris smiled softly. Turning her phone to silent mode before replying again.

"That has got to be some sort of abuse of power or something."

"Well, gotta do what u gotta do, right? Did I wake u?"

She hesitated slightly before sighing and deciding to tell the truth.

"Nah. Had a nightmare again, just woke up."

Another pause.

"You need me to come over or something?"

"No it's fine. Besides you'll scare Christina out of her mind."

"LOL. So? U free Monday?"

Tris thought about it. Did she want to hang out with Peter? Where is she going with this…relationship? What on earth will she tell Christina?

But she wanted to, so much. Peter was the first person after the war who had not treated her like a fragile thing, looking at her as if she was a bomb that could set off any second, shooting wary glances in her direction every ten minutes, on constant vigilance around her.

He had not censored every word that came out of his mouth like Caleb, or stared at her as if weighing up the severity of her problems on a daily basis like Christina, or peeked at her, turn to whisper to his companions and then peeked at her some more until she glared daggers at him like the numerous passers-by in public.

He seemed like he cared, truly cared because he wants to be her friend and not because she was a war hero or something. Although she wondered if that was just a fragment or her hopeful imagination.

But finally, after a long, heated debate in her own head, she decided to sod it.

"Meet you at your place at 11?"

The reply came almost instantly, "Cool."

Then, almost like an afterthought, he added, "Now go to sleep."


	7. Tris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of sexual assault and rape (are those same things?) in this chapter! Nothing graphic, but if you don't like this sort of thing skip until the first horizontal divider of the text.

Tris walked up the stairs to her flat. _Their flat._ It had been 3 months since their living together but the thought somehow still made her giddy. She knew it was silly, but she just couldn't help it. It felt… nice. More than nice. It felt that everything is going to finally be okay. It felt like she could proudly declare that she was finally over Tobias, over her past, over her depression.

Christina and Caleb had been thrilled. They welcome him into their little group with open arms, greeting him with warm smiled and friendly shoves. They liked him. Although to be fair there wasn't anyone, really, who didn't - he was so nice, so kind and funny and bright. It had been impossible not to be touched by that positivity.

So Tris dropped all her guards and let him into her world. Let his sunshine seep into the cracks of her dark and melancholic heart. And for a while, everything seemed like it's going to be alright.

Until it wasn't anymore.

Tris walked up the stairs to their flat, and entered it with a soft click of keys. She laid her rucksack on the floor next to the umbrella holder, and padded into the living room.

She was greeted by the back of him typing away at a computer, but that soon stopped when the sound of her soft footsteps echoed in the flat. He wheeled around on his chair, a huge grin broke out on his face.

"Hey, blossom." He greeted.

And it was one of those moments when Tris couldn't help but mirror his smile. Whether it was because of his wide goofy grin or the nickname he made up for her.

 _"Like a cherry blossom,"_ he had said, while tucking her hair behind her ears, _"so small, so delicate, so kind."_

 _"A cherry blossom can't be kind."_ She had thrown her head back and laughed, causing that particular strand of hair to fall out again.

Then he would look deep into her eyes, smile gone from his face, and pulled her hair back relentlessly. _"I meant you."_ He'd explained in seriousness.

"Hey." She replied, smiling back.

"How was your day?" He asked, getting up and walking across to the kitchen to scoop out two plates of chicken and salad he'd prepared earlier for dinner, and set them out on the table.

"Alright," she replied, as she pulled up a chair and sat across her, taking the knife and fork and digging into her meal. "You know, just average routines at work, nothing interesting."

"Cool." He said and they moved on to other things, news of the reform of the city, movies coming out, messages from people who had moved away and settled elsewhere. It was becoming a routine of theirs, but one that she never got bored of, one that she loved.

After dinner he washed up the plates while she went up to the bathroom to shower, and when she came out of the bathroom dressed in a bathing robe, he had been sitting on their bed, still typing on his laptop.

He looked up over the edge, patted the space next to him where she always slept, and smiled.

"Come here, blossom." He called. She went over to him, lay down and snuggled close to him.

And that was when it all started going downhill.

He set the computer on the bedside table, and turned to kiss her on the lips. It had been gentle pecks and nips first, but it soon turned into a full-on, passionate french kiss session.

Normally Tris hadn't minded. They didn't do this often as neither of them was the sort of person who likes the sensation of fiery, physical love, but this wasn't exactly new to her from her past dating experiences.

This time, however, she had the burning, itching feeling that something was very, very, wrong.

So she pushed him off, or at least she tried, murmuring a halfhearted protest and thinking up an excuse to say that she was tired, that she wasn't feeling up to it, something. He did stop, for a brief moment, and Tris felt herself breathing out a sigh of relief. Before she felt his hand tugging on her bath robe and alarm bells went off in her brain.

In retrospect she wasn't sure if her fate had been sealed from the moment she started going out with him, when they moved in together, when she walked into the flat that evening or if her refusal had somehow fuelled his determination. But she hated every second of it.

 _"What is it, blossom?"_ He had asked, but there had been no concern in his voice. It was cold, unfeeling, as if the sunny, warm mask that was her boyfriend had been ripped away and what was revealed was no more than an automaton.

 _"Don't you want this?"_ He said with such a disturbing tone Tris felt shivers running all down her spine.

It wasn't that the experience was new to her. She had been intimate before in the dorms of the bureau with Tobias before the war was even over. And heck, this wasn't even her first time with him. No, what made her skin crawl with uncomfortable lumps and her insides twitch with agony was the fact that this wasn't like those times before. There was no love, no gentle steps or adoration.

There was only burning desire, lust, pure dominance. And she hated every second of it.

She couldn't even feel the physical sensation after a while. But every time their bodies collide to gather Tris felt a fresh wave of betrayal, disbelief and grief wash over her, in rhythm with his every movement.

It lasted for what seemed like eternity. Partly because she was so numb that she couldn't even be sure when he actually left her alone. She lay paralysed for hours and hours, until reality and the unconscious blurred together and she drifted off into a stone-like sleep.

* * *

When she woke up it was three in the morning. Her head pounded in her own ears as she sat up in the bed.

This wasn't like one of those hangover sessions when you have a few moments of bliss before events from the previous night comes crashing down on you. No, from the moment she woke up what happened before loomed over her head and pressed on her chest. But she felt strangely calm, detached.

She opened the wardrobe and gathered a few clean changes of clothes, then padded to the bathroom to pick up her set of toothbrush, towels, slippers, and put them into a clear plastic bag.

Then she journeys down the stairs, feeling more than relieved that he had been asleep on the sofa. She considered taking her set of keys but quite frankly, she wouldn't have returned here should a gun be pointed at her temples, much less on her own accord.

So instead she picked up her rucksack and shoved her belongings into it, shrugged on a light jumper and left the flat.

Outside the warm atmosphere of the spring hugged her, and she began to sob at last, with both hands over her mouth, grieving for the tiny scrap of normality that she'd found and lost. She felt something inside her shrivel up and die.

* * *

The picnic with Peter had somehow turned into another one of his 'perfectly platonic' dinner date, except they were both so full from the sandwiches consumed while watching helium balloons float into the horizon that neither of them felt like eating, so they just went out for coffee at six in the evening instead.

After that he invited her into his flat, _to see it properly,_ according to Peter, _without being drunk, embarrassed or hysterically sad._

They sat on the sofa together and watched an old horror movie, attempting to maintain a healthy distance between each other at first and after a while just giving up and scooting towards each other, his arms draped over her shoulder and her leaning into his chest. When the credits scrolled both of them sat up straight again while Tris checked the time.

"Shit." She cursed, it had been eleven at night. "It's late, I need to go."

"Or, you know," Peter replied lazily, stretching his arm out into a half-yawn, "you could stay, for the night."

Alarm bells wailed in her head as she began to panic.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ Tris told herself, _this isn't like the last time. Peter isn't…him._

"Nothing like that," he added hastily, obviously seeing the concern that clouded over her face, "I'll take the sofa."

"I'm not sure that's fair for you, though." She protested genuinely.

Peter smirked."Trust you to always be a stiff." He joked.

"It's called being polite," she shot back easily, "you should try it sometimes."

"I'm only saying, that it's very late, so I'll have to walk you back, and I don't fancy a dip in this weather out there. Plus, it'll probably freak Christina out if she sees me. So you're better off just staying here for the night."

Tris pondered this carefully, chewing on her lips. She had to admit Peter put up a convincing argument. Finally she relented, grabbing her phone to text Christina. _Just for one night,_ she thought, _it can't hurt._

So she went upstairs while Peter laid out an old t-shirt for her to use as pyjamas. She tried to get out of showering, too, partly because she was too tired and partly because it reminded her of that dreadful thing that happened, but Peter wouldn't hear of it.

"Nuh-uh." He said, "I _just_ changed the bedsheets."

So Tris sighed and trudged into the bathroom, groaning. When she was done and threw on Peter's oversized clothes, he had already fallen asleep on the sofa.

She smiled to herself while she walked up the stairs, flopping down on the soft bed and was soon enveloped by the strangely calming smell of Peter's cologne and soap.

* * *

Terror gripped at her throat as her heart hammered. It was dark, all dark, but she felt something lurking just beyond sight nonetheless.

She twisted and writhed, trying to get free but something was pinning her down with an iron grip.

"No…" she whispered, shifting and turning, repeating "No no no…no…no…" over and over again, mostly at herself.

And she felt strong arms wrapped around her tightly. The good kind of tight — safe, secure, not suffocating at all. She tried to prise her eyes open but everything came out blurred and dark.

"Shhhhh…" She heard a voice whisper gently. _Tobias?_ She thought, expect it didn't quite sound like Tobias. The resonance was a bit off.

 _She was to tired for this,_ she thought again, while gently shaking her head into the chest next to her.

"Shhh, Tris, it's okay. Sleep."

And she remembered. She remembered a similar voice giving that same command in the Amity base a lifetime ago. A similar voice telling her that he will fight off her nightmares with his bare hands.

"Tobias?" She murmured.

She was greeted with silence, and she could hear her own heart pounding. No, it _had_ to be him, she had been so sure.

" _Tobias?_ " She asked again, a little more panicked, trying to lift her head up and open her eyes.

This time an answer came. "Yeah, yeah it's me. It's okay, Tris, lie down."

And she does, satisfied. She remembered all those times this had happened, all those times when he stayed and guarded her with his own body, and told her how he loved her. And it was going to be alright.

"I love you." She mumbled into his chest.

There was another silence, but eventually the answer came.

_"I love you too, Tris."_


	8. Peter

Peter was frying eggs when he heard footsteps descend down the stairs. Involuntarily he felt his shoulders tense up as he pushed the cooking food back and forth in the pan. He whirled around as Tris reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the kitchen, still wearing his gray shirt with a fish sketched onto it.

"Fried egg?" He offered, trying to keep up an air of normality but coming across as _way_ too jolly for his own good.

The tone obviously caught Tris off-guard, her eyebrows creased up slightly as she pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the wooden table.

"Sure." She agreed.

"Sunny side up?" He asked, desperately attempting to keep up the charade of ease.

"Whatever." If Tris noticed his unusually high-pitched voice, she didn't comment on it as she eyed the egg that was dumped into her plate by Peter, poking at it experimentally.

Peter flipped his own egg over, eyeing the time on the table clock. 7:29. After about thirty seconds he plated the other egg and sat down at the table across Tris, wondering if there is a way to possibly ask how much she remembers from last night without giving away too much.

He never got the chance to try, because after just a few bites, Tris looked up from her breakfast, sporting a confused expression on her face.

"Peter…" She started, and Peter found himself praying.

_Please ask about the weather, please ask about the weather, please—_

"About last night…" _Shit._

"Nothing happened last night." If he said it a bit more aggressively it might as well be a growl.

Apparently that was all the clue Tris needed, as the confused expression immediate cleared to reveal the veiled disbelief.

"So it _was_ you." She concluded, "I thought it was just me being so out of it, you know, hallucinations of sorts."

_Why didn't he think of that as an excuse?!_

"Look, can we just forget about it?" It came out as a proper growl this time, but Tris obviously have no intentions of letting the subject go.

"You said, you said that—"

"I know very well what I said." He interrupted coldly.

"Why?"

_That,_ he thought, _was a bloody good question._

* * *

_The clock on the coffee table showed 4:03 as its ":" flashed away to the rhythm of each second. Peter groaned and rolled over, nearly falling off the sofa. Upstairs he could hear soft moaning in Tris' voice, she sounded as if she was in real distress. Sighing silently he threw his feet into his slippers and trudged upstairs._

_"No no no…no…no…" Tris was shifting in the bedsheets, her brows drawn into a tight frown, the corners of her mouth downturned a little._

_Peter hesitated, staring at her. Normally despite her size she could put on an air of strength and stubbornness. Ever since he saw her at the bar last month, however, this image had been peeling away bit by bit, leaving Peter unsure of how to act around her._

_He only hesitated for a split second, before deciding upon lifting up the dark blue cover and sliding in. Carefully he took the small girl into his own arms, hoping she wouldn't wake up from the contact._

_Luckily she didn't. As Peter squeezed her a bit harder and with more certainty, she began to settle down a little._

_"Shhhhh…" He tried._

_Another small sound escaped her lips as she dug her head deeper into his chest, shaking it over and over. He tried again._

_"Shhh, Tris, it's okay. Sleep."_

_She began to calm down a little. Peter sighed and was about to drift off himself, hugging her body close to him, feeling his own warmth heating up her skin under the t-shirt, when—_

"Tobias?"

_He felt his shoulders and chest tense up._ It's just her dreams, _he thought,_ maybe she saw him or something, if he just kept very, very still…

_"Tobias?" Tris tried again. There was definitely panic in her voice this time. Even worse, she started to twist and pull away from his arms, her eyes were fluttering ever so slightly, still thick with sleep._

_Peter started to feel alarmed. If Tris woke up right now, it would be a very awkward situation indeed to explain._ No, _he reasoned,_ he must say something, anything to calm her down and get her back to sleep.

_Not thinking, he replied. "Yeah, yeah it's me. It's okay, Tris, lie down." He even dropped his voice low an octave, doing the best imitation of Four he could remember. It was ridiculous. If Tris had been a little bit sober she would have laughed her head off._

_Luckily, she wasn't, and so it worked. He could feel her burrow her face back into his chest and giving a contended sigh. Peter let out his own relieved breath, dropping his chin on top of her head._

_Then it came. It was a small, faint, blurred murmur, but to Peter it sounded clear as a church bell._

_"I love you."_

_Peter knew it was not meant for him. He knew she must have still been under the impression that it had been Four holding her. He knew that she would never, not in a million years, say it to him knowingly._

_But still it sent a tiny shockwave all down his spine. Small, soft, but sure, just like her. But still he wasn't able to help the small smile that tugged the corner of his lips upwards, just a little._

_Peter knew that she was already asleep. He knew that she wasn't expecting a reply. He knew that she was probably too far gone to hear it, much less remember it the next morning._

_But still he buried his mouth into her hair, breathing in her scent, and whispered back._

"I love you too, Tris."

* * *

"Why?"

"Well, I couldn't very well shake you awake and tell you that I wasn't your dead boyfriend, could I?"

He regretted the words the instant they came out of his mouth. It was cruel, much too cruel even for him. He also knew that the excuse make no sense, but he was too embarrassed to think this through properly.

"Is that the only reason you said it?" Tris asked.

_That was what she picked up from the conversation? Was that disappointment on her face?_

Giving up, Peter gave an exasperated sigh. "I thought that you thought that I was Four!" He exclaimed.

Tris pulled a face. "Yeah, I thought so at the time, too. But now that I recall it, it sounded way off. I reasoned at first that I was just so out of it, you know? That I couldn't dream his voice right. It's been a long time. Then I came down and one look at your face and I pieced two and two together."

Peter winced. "I should really start taking acting classes, shouldn't I?"

Tris did the last thing he expected. She _laughed_ , and before Peter knew it, he was laughing too. Something he strangely did a lot these days, after spending time with Tris.

"For what it's worth," Tris said after the fit was over, staring deeply into Peter's eyes in such a way that it felt like a cold icicle piercing his soul, "Thank you."

Peter smiled at her. "Hey, no problem." He stood up and dumped his plate into the sink. Then he dug around the drawer for a spare key, which he handed over to Tris.

"I'm off to work." He said, "don't forget to lock up after yourself, yeah?"

She took over the keys and nodded. So he picked up his coat and headed out the door. A few seconds later, he came back in again.

"Oh, and Tris?" She looked up at him. "don't worry about the plates." He winked at her, and she smiled back.

As he walked out onto the streets and into his patrol car, Peter felt strangely warm and fuzzy on the inside.

* * *


	9. Caleb

"You're happy today." Caleb remarked.

He had the afternoon off that day. The lab has just wrapped a six-months project and the technicians were adapting the lab to move onto the next stage of studies. As a research director, this meant that he didn't need to be present for a couple days.

Still, he'd popped into the building that morning to check on how Christina had been doing. Even though she technically was his personal lab tech and assistant, she was still required to lend a hand on general projects when not needed in Caleb's office. He offered to stay, but she insisted that she was okay.

"Mhm, I guess." Christina replied, idly wheeling a trolley full of liquid nitrogen cans into the room and depositing them down at the centre of the room.

"Any particular reason why?" He probed further, tentatively.

"Nope. Just haven't had a reason to be unhappy is all." She answered back in a borderline sing-song voice, flashing him a toothy grin.

Caleb chuckled as the skin around her eyes crinkled and her brown iris flashed with mischief. He hadn't seen her like this in ages. In fact, come think of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen Christina like this - almost completely carefree.

There had always been something for her, them, to worry about. First there was Jeanine and the whole divergent business, then the war and the Bureau thing, then Tobias died, along with numerous other people and there was rebuilding the city to do along with all the morbid mourning. When they'd finally thought they'd get a break, Tris' past caught up with her and revealed itself to be even more troublesome than they'd anticipated.

"This is about Tris, isn't it?"

"What isn't about Tris?" Christina chirped joyfully.

"I take it she'd doing well?"

"I guess. Haven't heard from her much lately. Think that's saying something."

"You guys still refusing to talk to each other?"

"Not _refusing_." She mused, twiddling a piece of soft iron block between her thumb and fingers, taking a while to come up with the right words. "Just… stopped making an effort, is all."

Caleb sighed. He didn't like how Tris had managed to put up an icy, distant wall between herself and them. To him he understood. After all, it was him who had thrown away any chance of reconciliation by choosing Erudite over her. But Christina didn't deserve this. She had done nothing but to try and help her, and Tris had always allowed her to.

"But she seems happy. Been making new friends, apparently." Christina interrupted his thoughts, in a light tone. Caleb perked up at this news.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Saw him the other day, dropping her off below the flat. He was tucking her hair back and giving her little paper notes and everything."

"Him?" Peter frowned slightly. He couldn't help but feel the old sense of protectiveness creeping up his spine.

"Yeah, by the looks of it." Christina chuckled, her default gossip face was already written all over her expressions. "'Bit unlikely that a lady would be caressing her the way he did, no? Unless Tris had some _serious_ secret she's not telling us." She added, wriggling her eyebrows at the last statement.

Caleb wasn't as amused as she was. In fact, he didn't like the sound of this whole thing at all. Christina must have seen his furrowed brow laced with concern as well, because she put down the pack of soft iron rods and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. It's alright. Leave her be." She said, squeezing his shoulders gently. "It was you who said that she can take care of herself, hmm?"

He looked down at her hand, then back up at her.

"D'you think it was wrong of us? To let her do what she like? Did we…" he gulped, not wanting to face what he was about to say. "Did we go wrong, somewhere?"

Christina sighed. "Caleb, you know your sister better than anyone, yeah? You of all people know what pushing her can do. _Did_ do. We're giving her space, and it seems to be doing a good job to her, too."

Caleb put his fingers on top of Christina's, which was still resting on his shoulder, and pulled his lips into a reluctant small smile, which made her grin even wider.

"Ahem." Came a hard voice from outside the lab door. Christina retracted her hand as if she had been shocked, and both of them looked towards the entrance, eyes wide and startled.

Outside, the right eyebrow of James Lyall shot up.

"I do sincerely hope that Miss Kravitz is being productive, Mr Prior." He remarked curtly, nodding his head once towards Caleb, who felt embarrassment, anger, and annoyance churn in the deep pits of his stomach.

"Of course, James." He said with a sickeningly upbeat tone, placing a condescending emphasis on the man's first name. "I also sincerely hope that you are, too."

Lyall spluttered indignantly and trudged away. Caleb turned back to Christina's face, flooded with utter disbelief. He smirked at her, though not unkindly.

"I can't believe you said that to his face!" She exclaimed.

"Judging by that dumb look on it, I just did." Caleb said smugly. "Besides, it's about time he be reminded that he's not the boss."

"Cabe," Christina reminded him, still unable to wipe the grin off her own face, "he _is_ the boss."

"That's not the _point_ , Christina." He replied, rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion, that sent her into a fit of giggles.

Caleb really loved to hear Christina giggle, even though she never does it much. He suspects that this has been the case even before their lives became messed up, that she's just never been the giggling type. Which is probably why Caleb felt special whenever he managed to get her to do it.

When she had finally composed herself, she straightened up and looked around at the floor awkwardly.

"I… Um… I got to get this finished up." She said.

"You want me to help?"

"No. That's alright. It's not… not proper."

"Screw proper." Caleb said, frustrated at the whole barrier of hierarchy keeping them apart. They had already abolished the factions, for god's sake! Can't they see how wrong this is?

Christina smiles at him. "No, really. It's fine. You go on. Go to Millennium Park or something, chill a little."

"All right." He conceded. "I'll see you at lunch or something."

"Yeah, see you." She said, picking up the rods again and filed them into the cabinet. He smiled and walked out of the lab.

* * *

"I still think we shouldn't let her run around with a guy we know nothing about."

They were sitting in the mini-cafeteria in the Erudite building that noon. Christina poked experimentally at her plate of what the lunch lady claimed to be ratatouille.

"Relax." She said at Caleb, not looking up. "It's what normal people do."

"Yeah, but Tris is not normal! Incase you haven't noticed, she's bat-crap crazy!"

"Whoah there," she chuckled, "That's, like, the closest thing you've said to being a normal sibling, I think."

Caleb pulled another one of his classic eye roll.

"What's up with this whole overprotectiveness thing anyways?" She asked, "Normally I'm the one losing my shit here over that girl and you're telling me to calm down."

"I don't know, exactly." Caleb admitted. "I just feel like this could be terrible on her if it goes wrong."

Christina's face dropped. "You're thinking of the last time."

Caleb nodded grimly. They never talked about it much, with or without Tris. They had just packed it away and pretended it wasn't there like the majority of Tris' problems. Convinced themselves it's not serious, it's just normal, she's had a hard time, it was just an argument, a breakup, nothing to worry about, etc. etc.

But they both knew that wasn't the case. They both knew how happy Tris was with him, and happy people don't show up on their friend's doorsteps after midnight, unannounced, sobbing hysterically. Normal people don't shut down completely and start drinking and screaming in their sleep. But Tris never told, and they never asked.

"I can't help but get the feeling that it's more serious than what we're making it out to be." Caleb pressed on.

"You think Dom did something to her?" Christina asked slowly. "That's some serious accusations."

"Well, there was some serious reaction from Tris, wasn't there?"

"Look. At first I thought that maybe he did something too. But… Dom's a nice guy, okay? You've met him, you've hung out with him. He gets Tris, okay? And her would never hurt Tris. Or anyone, for that matter."

"But what if he was pretending? To get his way?"

"To do what?" Christina made an oh-my-god-are-you-kidding-me face. "Look. No offence but if he was some… serial abuser or, god forbid, rapist, don't you think there are better girls in town than Beatrice Prior? I mean, you don't date someone with severe PTSD and security issues for four months and then live with them for another three, putting up with all their shits - and God knows Tris has, like, _a lot_ of them - just for kicks, okay? Plus, Tris had been happy with him. That's something you can't make up. Especially not with Tris."

Caleb's brow furrowed even more as he is trying to sort everything out in his head. "Yeah… but… you've got to admit, that sort of behaviour, there's something more to it that we don't know about. That she hadn't told us. That we haven't asked."

"Look." Christina sighed, shovelling a mouthful of risotto into her mouth. "You've said so yourself, Tris is not normal people. She overreacts to… everything. I think we should give Dom the benefit of the doubt here."

"Over my own sister? Over your best friend?"

"Cabe, you're making too big a deal out of this! Maybe she just had a rough breakup! It's not like she _told_ us he did unspeakable things to her, did she?"

"It's not like we've made an effort to find out, either! Who breaks up with people in the middle of the night?! And isn't it a little unsettling how he didn't even _try_ to get back in touch? To explain himself?"

There was an awkward silent. Caleb wondered how even without being there, Tris had a talent of heating things up between people. He stared into Christina's brown eyes for a bit more with her glaring back at him. He was starting to wonder if her should say something when Christina sighed, dropped her gaze and shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever. We'll ask her about it next time."

"Yeah." Caleb agreed. "Yeah, we'll do that."

Christina raised both eyebrows over her tray of food into a questioning look.

"What?" Caleb asked defensively after a few seconds.

"I'm assuming you didn't come into the building to have lunch with me _just_ to discuss your sister's choice of boyfriends?"

"Oh!" Caleb replies, startled. "Oh, that. Yeah. Um…"

He raised his hand up to ruffle his hair, forgetting that he was holding a spoonful of porridge at the time. The spoon dropped in a clear clang back into the bowl, splattering its content magnificently over his shirt, tie, tray, Christina's tray, the table, etc.

"Oh shit. I'm so sorry." He stuttered, hating how steadily hot his cheeks were becoming. "I'm so sorry. I, uh…"

He grinned weakly into Christina's highly amused face, picked up a napkin and started to wipe wet rice off his tie, before remembering that he should probably fix Christina's tray first.

"Lemme, uh… lemme just get that for you…" He said, reaching across to her tray, almost knocking over her glass of water in the process.

"Caleb." Christina said, putting her own hand on his to stop him. "You were saying?" She prompted.

"Oh." He replied, remembering. "Yeah, I, I was just wondering if… If you'd like to go to dinner with me sometime?"

Christina frowned. "Cabe, we always eat together."

"Yeah! Yeah no, I meant, what I mean is… somewhere that is not the cafeteria. Somewhere nice. Just you and me."

"Are you asking me _out_?" Christina demanded, sounding surprised.

"Well, I… Yeah? Yeah, I guess I am." Caleb could feel his cheek flushing a deep scarlet. He wondered if the temperature was enough to fry an egg yet.

"Probably a sunny side up. Or even an over easy." He muttered.

"Huh?"

"Oh. Did I… did I say that out loud?" He looked up, mortified.

"What I mean is," Christina said, ignoring him, "I'd love to, sometime."

He grinned like an idiot. She grinned back like a (slightly) more adorable idiot.

Then she picked up her fork and scooped a forkful of the very dubious ratatouille into her mouth and gagged.

"Ugh!" She said, retching. "Did they make this from the failed experiments of the bio lab?"

Caleb laughed. "If they did, we'd all get _much_ larger portions than this."

The people from the canteen all turned around to stare at the pair of maniacs holding their stomachs and laughing their heads off. But Caleb could not have cared less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the Petris action, or lack thereof, in this chapter. As a compensation Chapter 10 will come a little sooner than originally planned, stay tuned :)


	10. Tris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT THIS CHAPTER IN NO WAY DIMINISHES OR ROMANTICISES BULLYING AND MENTAL ABUSE IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM.  
> If you are a victim of bullying, please get help and please feel in no way that you should forgive or accept what has been done to you. Please don't feel like you should reconcile with your tormentor if you feel uncomfortable with it, even if they have apologised. If you have bullied someone in the past, don't feel like you are entitled to a reconciliation with your victim. I understand that you may have grown up, changed, well good for you. But if the other person don't feel comfortable around you, stay well away from them.
> 
> You will find out the reason for this warning in the chapter.

"Tris?"

"Mhmm?"

"Drew and Molly's wedding is coming up next Saturday. I was wondering if you'd like to not-go as my date?"

Tris made an amused chuckle as she put down the book she was reading and turned around on Peter's dark blue couch to face him. He was sitting at the computer desk typing away at some files from work, with a green plaid shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, which were framed behind a pair of black rectangular glasses. And Tris couldn't help but think that he looked utterly adorable in the dim evening light.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, because you have to attend your great aunt's funeral and I have to be there for moral support."

"What?" Tris asked, scrunching her eyebrows together, feeling exasperated. As much as she enjoyed his quirkiness, it's hard to keep up with him sometimes.

"Your great aunt Gertrude, Tris. Do try to keep up." Peter replied nonchalantly, looking up from his computer and winking at Tris. "She died in a tragic hovercraft accident. Her funeral clashes with Molly and Drew's wedding. You were very close with her, and are consequently very upset. As a good friend, I have to be there for you in times of dire need."

At this, Peter walked over to the couch, took Tris' left hand by the fingers and made a formal kissing gesture, which made her break into a fit of giggles.

"Therefore, we must regretfully not go to the wedding, however both of us send our sincerest congratulations their way." He concluded, making a twirling gesture with his arms and taking a deep bow.

"Fantastic. How long did that take you?" Tris asked, slow-clapping as she finally caught up with the situation.

"Two speed limited cases and a suspected homicide." Peter replied, without missing a beat. Tris marvelled at how strange it was that this quick wit she once hated so much was now one of the best things about being around the guy.

"Remind me again why are we not going to their wedding?"

Peter rolled his eyes and made a loud puffing noise. "Be-cause, Tris, your great aunt Gert- do you need me to write this out as a note for you?"

Tris face-palmed herself. "No, _Peter_ , the real reason."

"Oh." Peter paused, looking genuinely surprised as he frowned slightly. "Is that not obvious?"

"Enlighten me, then."

"Well," Peter's face now resembled someone being asked why do people not roll around naked in the mud like pigs, "because it's _Molly and Drew_."

"Mm-hmm. And?"

"Molly and Drew, Tris! Jesus. The mean people from Dauntless that you don't like?"

"And _you're_ Peter Hayes, remember?" Tris retorted, not unkindly, crossing her arms. Peter made a gesture of being stabbed, and promptly disappeared down the back of the couch.

"Touché, touché." He exclaimed.

Tris giggled again and kneeled up on the couch, peering over the back to see Peter lying on the floor, clutching at his heart in a face full of agony. She extended an arm to pull him back up again.

"Dear Lord, Peter, what happened to you tonight? You're all over the place!"

"Sugar rush." He replied, indicating the drink on his desk. Tris stared at him disbelievingly.

"That's grape juice."

" _No_ , that's the remains of what was a two-litres carton of grape juice." He managed to get out before dissolving into maniacal laughter. "I'm drunk."

"Oh dear." Tris sighed as she went to sit him down before he gives himself appendicitis. A couple months ago, if anyone had told her that Peter Hayes, her then-arch nemesis, was such a _complete dork_ , she would have told them to fuck off and get lost.

"What I mean is," She tried again when he had finally managed to return to normal after a couple minutes, "what makes _you_ the special boy?"

"You mean how did I escape my inner dickhead?" He asked.

"If you must phrase it in such a sophisticated way, sure."

"Sarcasm, my dear Tris, is the lowest form of wit."

"You're avoiding the question."

"I don't even know. I just am." Peter shrugged. "Not a dick anymore, I mean. It's too tiring and not fun."

"That's it?" Tris asked, baffled. Peter shot her another confused look.

"Yeah. What did you expect? That I launch into some deep, heartfelt confession on the regrets of my past and how I am truly, deeply sorry for my actions?"

Honestly, Tris didn't really know what to expect. She felt a tiny impulse at the back of my mind to say "yeah, kind of." But even that wouldn't cover it. The past month had been absolutely manic. Her world had been flipped up-side-down, and he was the main reason for it.

And just when she thought she'd finally figured this whole thing out. When she thought that _he_ showed her how everyone is changing, that maybe she's trying to hard to cling on to her old life, that maybe she should change, adapt, evolve with the world around her, he pulls this on her. He goes along and practically said that maybe he wasn't any different. That he was just his old self. That maybe people don't - can't change for the better.

And what chance did she have of escaping her demons if Peter can't escape his?

"D'you ever think about that saying? Being nice is easy, it's being mean that takes the efforts?"

Tris shook her head. "That sounds like a rubbish saying."

"And why is that?"

"It's dismissing all the people in the world that is trying to make things better, don't you think? It's saying that what they do isn't credible, isn't worth praising, because it's easy, it's for granted, it's something that could be done by just anyone, it's not special. Do you think that right?" She asked, looking up into his deep green eyes. How angelic they were. So pure and intense that Tris felt _wrong_ to be the one teaching him about goodness and love. He should be the one to teach her.

It was him who broke eye contact first. "Spoken like a true stiff." He smirked. "What I mean is in everyday life, you know? When you target someone, when you single them out and give them a hard time, you are always calculating. How your next words are meant to make them feel, how are you going to show them you hate them, but not too far or you might get into trouble. You always have to have a witty, smart-ass remark on the ready so you don't make a fool of yourself in front of them. You're constantly on the lookout for them to catch them off guard when they least expect it.

"And for what? As I said, it's not fun. Or at least, it stops being fun after a while. They start ignoring you and stop being upset. You stop feeling triumphant and powerful. But you can't stop. Because you stop, you lose, you give up. You stop and they've won the fight. Because everyone expects you to act this way and there's no backing out. Because chances, are, the other people will never forgive you for what you've done, so why try to apologise?"

Tris marvelled at this sudden outburst. Was this true? She tried to put herself back to two years ago. If Peter had suddenly stopped all the teasing and bullying one day, if he had tried to apologise, what would she have thought? Tris realised that Peter was right. She would have laughed at his face, say some sarcastic retort, or eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want?" She would say to him. "Did you seriously think we would believe you?" Tris shuddered. Is this what all of the unbearable people in the world are like? Trapped by their own reputation? Unable to make things right?

"Don't get me wrong." Peter interrupted her thoughts, "I'm not justifying their actions. Our actions. I've done some stupid things, Tris. I don't deny that. And I can apologise if you want. But what I'm getting at right now is that by comparison, being a pleasant person is much more easy, spontaneous.

"You walk by someone you know and you give them a smile, a nod, simple as that. You like someone's shirt, you tell them. No careful crafting of linguistics needed, a simple 'your shirt is lovely today' would do. Do you see?

That's why I stopped. Being a dickhead, I mean. Because my city was blown up and messed up and no one remembers anyone. Because I can have a new life, a fresh start. And I'd be an idiot if I don't take the easy way out. Simple as that."

Tris nodded, feeling oddly satisfied. "Okay. I rest my case."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"

She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. There were often times where she'd imagined a reconciliation with this man sitting in front of her. Granted, they never went well, but she knew that this moment had finally arrived. She was one step closer to letting go of her old life. And so she began to take that step.

"I'm not going to ask for an apology from you. Peter Hayes. Because there isn't one to ask for. No, no hear me out." She pressed on, putting her hands on the giant moose paws of Peter's to interrupt his protest.

"That doesn't mean you didn't make my life hell before. You did. And heaven knows there were times I wanted to _strangle_ you and skin you alive."

He smiled at this. "And heaven knows you are perfectly capable."

She smiled back at him. "That's the point, Peter. I was capable of defending myself. I did defend myself. Our fights and hatred - they weren't one sided. I did my share of damage too. To accept your apology means to admit you've hurt me, and you didn't. You annoyed my to death, sure, but I was never scared of you. And I understand that you have changed and I understand your reason for it. So, if you like, I'm happy to start afresh."

"We have started afresh." Peter reminded her gently. She grinned, thinking of the last month when they raced down the avenue when it was pitch dark, shrieking with laughter. That time when they made a bet that Peter could not fit a whole sandwich in his mouth, and it turns out he could. And because she lost the bet she had to attempt to burp her way through the alphabet. She had failed miserably, but Peter laughed so hard grape juice came out of his nose.

He was right. Without knowing it they had started afresh already. But Tris also remembered the feeling she got sometimes when she looked at him, like when you zoned out while walking and woke up not knowing where you are, and panicking. Getting that awful churn in her stomach when she felt like she was making a terrible, terrible mistake. Feelings she hoped would be gone after that night.

So she grinned up at him and squeezed his hands in her own. "Yeah, but officially." She told him.

Peter smiled back. A genuine, warm smile this time. "Officially." He echoed, leaning forward to hug her.

They clung onto each other's shoulders tightly as Tris felt a loose piece of a puzzle click in her heart. Like the feeling of coming home after a long holiday.

And strangely enough, she could tell Peter felt it too.


	11. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: chapter contains references to rape, but the event is not described explicitly in passage.
> 
> We're nearly caught up with our fanfiction.net counterpart! *Enters panic mode*

It was barely ten in the morning and he was already close to reaching his caffeine intake limit. It was an exceptionally busy day at the office and there seemed to be an endless stream of case files flowing into his server folder every hour.

Peter tossed his head back and stretched a bit, wondering how on earth he was going to survive the whole day. People call the idea of 'crime season' ridiculous, but they have not seen the image of pure agony every year when winter had just set in.

Someone cleared his throat behind him. Peter jerked back up in his chair at the sound, looking up to see the face of Hadrian Caverly, their officer in charge.

"Officer Hayes." He greeted him calmly.

"Morning, Sir. What can I do for you?" Peter replied, reminding himself that he was entitled to a stretch from time to time and that there was no reason to panic. Still, the strong, authoritative voice of Chief Caverly unsettled him, as was the case with many other people who work at the station.

"Is Liam here?" He asked, looking towards the empty desk opposite his.

"Uh, I don't believe he is, Sir. Think his brother is having a wedding and he's the best man… or something."

"I see. Thank you." Chief Caverly turned around to walk away, then paused as if he's had a second thought. "In that case," He faced Peter once more, "would you like to take this one?"

Peter cast a look back at the mount of credit card fraud, teenage drinking, and drug dealer cases and shrugged. _What harm could it do?_

"Sure. What is it?"

Chief Caverly chucked a file at him. He took it and opened it to the first page. A picture of a young man in his early twenties with dirty blond hair and striking blue eyes stared back up at him. Peter frowned. He didn't look like a criminal, or even a suspect. He looked like that guy who always has tissue paper in the pocket of his rucksack.

"He was reported for rape by his girlfriend." Caverly elaborated. Peter's eyes widened even more. "If you look through the file, you can find the medical report as well as video recordings of the event."

His head snapped up at this. "Video recordings?"

Caverly nodded. "The girl, Charlotte Noyes, had been feeling uncomfortable with the relationship for quite a while now. So she bought her own security camera and had it installed so it could capture the whole thing as evidence. Then she provoked him into committing the deed."

"Smart girl." Peter remarked, impressed. "No offence, Chief, but shouldn't this go straight to the lawyers already?"

"She suspects she's not the first." Caverly explained.

"You're saying we're dealing with a serial rape case?" Peter asked, looking back down at the picture of the young man. _How appearances can be so deceiving_ , he thought to himself, thinking strangely of Tris.

"That's what you're going to find out. In the file you'll also find his past girlfriends and close associates. I want you to look through them. Find links and patterns, see if there's any particular types of girls he likes to pick. They're not in chronological order, mind you, so maybe sorting them out would be a good place to start. Set up meetings with a couple of them if you can, gather evidence, find anyone willing to testify in court."

He nodded, leafing through the man's information file. Erudite transferred Candour. Twenty-two years old. He frowned. Had he ever met him back at the compound when he was younger? Maybe. The name certainly doesn't ring a bell, and his face was too normal, too mainstream to leave behind a definite memory. If the file was correct, they had only spent two or three years at the compound together between him transferring here and Peter transferring to Dauntless.

He couldn't have known him, Peter concluded. Maybe once or twice he ran past the corridor he was in, yelled "Oi, watch it, you Nose!" with his mates at him. But no more than that. He looked up at Chief Caverly, who was still watching him expectantly. "I'll take it." He decided.

"Good. I'll get someone to take your existing case assignments."

"Great, I'll get started on this right away then." He smiled at Caverly, tapping the large brown parchment file.

"No, Officer Hayes. There's something you need to do first."

Peter raised his eyebrows at him.

"We've got him over in the questioning room. I'd like you to go and have a chat with him first. See how much he cares to confess."

"Right. I'll be over right away." He said.

Chief Caverly nodded and walked away. Peter sighed and picked up the phone.

"New case. Serious one." He selected Tris' contact and tapped out on the screen. "Might be a little late."

":( You wanna call off the night?" Came the almost instantaneous response. Peter hesitated for a while.

"No need." He decided finally. "I'll be over at around seven."

"Kay. I'll cook." Tris offered.

"NO. I'd like to keep my kitchen, thank you very much." Peter replied, chuckling.

":P"

He smiled, picked up his notepad, grabbed the only pen that works from his pencil pot and headed over to the questioning chamber after one last gulp of the bitter coffee.

* * *

"Dominic Martinson, am I right?" He asked, walking into the gray room and clicking the door shut behind him. "I'm Officer Peter Hayes, here to investigate your case."

The blond man flashed Peter a grin as he pulled up a chair and sat down across the table. "That's right, Officer. Although it's Mr. Martinson for you."

Peter didn't think he would ever meet someone that aggravated him more than Tris did back in the Dauntless days. But how very wrong he was.

"In which case, _Mr. Martinson_ ," He replied cooly, trying not to grit his teeth at the smart aleck too much. "Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long."

"That's alright, Officer. It's not like I have an entire company to run, so…" The man replied in his annoying, high pitched voice, obviously being sarcastic.

"I'm just going to ask you a few questions before you are free to go run your company again. Until the station decides it necessary to call you back in, of course."

Dominic made a "fine, whatever" gesture, spreading his palms out and shrugging slightly.

"Alright. We will begin right away, if that's okay."

At this, the man made a feigned surprise look and held up a hand. "Wait, wait, wait. Where's the whole 'you have a right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you' thing?" He demanded. Peter suppressed the urge to slap his teeth into his stomach. "I thought they would have assigned me a more _competent_ police officer?"

Peter stared at Dominic's smirk. If _this is the road he wants to go down_ , he thought. _Fine by me. No one thinks they can rival my quick wits and gets away unscathed._

"That depends, _Mr. Martinson,_ " he drawled, choosing his words very carefully. "Do you _want_ a competent police officer investigating you case?"

Dominic's smirk widened as he strode gloriously into the trap Peter set up for him. "Of course not, Officer." He retorted, thinking he had just insulted Peter's intelligence.

"And why is that?" Peter asked without missing a beat, barely controlling the urge to grin and yell 'ha! Gotcha!' into the man's face "Are you afraid they're going to find something out?"

He looked pointedly at Dominic's dumfounded face. _Oh, darling_ , he thought quietly, _when I'm finished with you, you wouldn't know where to begin to look for your sorry arse._

"Interesting." He added for further effect, pretending to write something down on his notepad. This was absolutely useless in terms of evidence, of course, but any small triumph could be used to wear down the bastard's defence and confuse him into confessing.

* * *

"Anything?" Albany looked up at his from his own desk across the room as Peter walked back from the questioning room and plonked his unused notepad down on the table.

"Nope." He spat, frustrated. "Son of a bitch refuses to answer anything until he has spoken with his _attorney_."

Al made a sympathetic grimace. "Ah. One of those rich, posh bastards, eh? Bad luck."

"Yuh-huh!" Peter growled back, picking up the brown folder again and laid it open on the table. "I'll work on this file now, see what else is there."

Al nodded and got back to his own work.

The next hour consisted of Peter leafing through all the papers, building cross-referencing labels, drawing up comparison tables and all the other analysis techniques. _If i had wanted a desk job_ , he thought to himself bitterly, _I'd have stayed in the Erudite quarters._

The guy was definitely a player, he knew that much. His girlfriend before the war was an Amity transferred Candour. An unlikely combination, as the two factions seemed to get along the least out of all. She had been killed during the Erudite attack. The next one was after the city was rebuilt. Since then over the span of two and a half years he had dated a handful of girls. As far as Peter could tell, none of them were for a long time. They all split up shortly after starting to live together. There was definitely something fishy going on, Peter decided. He sighed and poured himself another coffee. This was going to be a long afternoon.

By around four he thinks he's got it. Somewhere around the fifth paragraph of Callie's file, it clicked. He frantically flipped back to the previous files.

Annabel Hinton- Little sister died to cancer.  
Callie Jasper- Clinical depression survivor.  
Freya Weaver- PTSD from simulation serum experience.  
Tessa Lyons- lost both parents to a house fire at the age of 15.

All of these girls had some sort of insecurity or traumatic experience and memories which made them vulnerable. Peter was willing to bet he used this to his advantage as he pretended to care, pretended to make them feel safe to lure them in and pounce on them like a sadistic predator.

His hands balled into fists. _That bastard!_ He would make him pay.

He flipped a few more paged, not really in the mood anymore. There was something about the man's company which invested and developed cars and renewable fuels, but nothing much related to the case. Then, when he flipped to the end of the folder, he found another blank A4 envelope, identical to the previous four that contained the suspected victim information.

Peter frowned. What was it doing at the back and not with the others? Was it simply misplaced, or was this one special? Could it bring his theory down to ruined and send him back to square one? He shrugged, there is only one way to find out. He tore open the enveloped and took out its content.

The breath was knocked out of him in a fraction of a second. His mind went completely blank. His knuckled turned white from the way his fists balled tightly, crumpling the papers between them as he read the name in large black print off the front sheet.

Beatrice Prior.


	12. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains references/implications of rape, no detailed descriptions

"So? What is this case that's more important than you teaching me to make spaghetti?"

"For the last time, I wasn't going to teach you to make spaghetti. _I_ was going to make the spaghetti and I said you were allowed to watch. From a safe distance of at least ten metres away."

"Still don't trust me, huh?"

"Oh no, Tris, I trust you perfectly. And I think my ceiling with burnt lasagna stuck on it has almost forgiven you too. It's the oven and the stove that is still holding a grudge."

"For the last time, it was an accident!"

"Hey, it's not like I was calling you a terrorist, was I?"

Tris giggled and watched Peter pour boiling water onto ramen noodles, though Peter was not in as good a mood as her. He had been wondering all afternoon and evening how to begin to talk about the subject.

How are you meant to tell your ex-arch enemy and newly-reconciled friend that you're investigating her ex-boyfriend for rape that he may or may not have - and most probably have - also done to her?

"Well? Is it exciting? Is there fighting? Explosions?"

"Huh?"

"The _case_ , Peter!"

"Oh. Yeah. Nothing like that."

Tris blew a raspberry and Peter rolled his eyes. He brought over the two pots of noodles and set them down on the table. Tris pulled up a chair opposite him and started slurping in her one.

Peter sighed and took a deep breath. _She has a right to know,_ he told himself. _You have to tell her eventually, just get it out and she'll appreciate it more._

"It's a serial rape case." Peter blurted out.

He studied Tris' face very carefully. A split frame of shock came over her face, but left as quickly as it came as she gained her composure again. She made a nonchalant grimace.

"Ooh, nasty." She remarked.

Peter had to give it to her, the girl's strength was highly admirable. It reminded him of all those times before when she put on a brave mask to face the crumbling world around her. A true dauntless indeed. He felt almost sorry to have to tear it down, but she deserved to know.

So he replied softly, "His name is Dominic Martinson."

The reaction was instant. Tris dropped her fork in a loud clatter on the table. She looked up at him with an expression of such utter horror that it made Peter want to punch a hole in something, or stand up and walk up to her, pull her into a tight embrace and tell her that it's all going to be okay.

"I don't think I need to ask you if you knew him or not." He said instead.

"You saw my name in the case file, didn't you?" Her voice trembled and came out in a bare whisper. He nodded. "You want to call me in for investigation?"

To be honest, Peter has had half a thought when he first gained back his composure. It would have been the easiest place to start. But he dismissed it a minute later. He could never put Tris through that.

"I want you to know that I can erase your name from the files if you need."

A look of confusion came over her face. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Yes. But it wouldn't make an impact morally. The court has no right to make you testify against your will anyways, I'll just be saving them the trouble of coming down here."

Tris nodded after a couple seconds. "I'll think about it."

Peter's heart dropped. _I'll think about it,_ she said. That means there was something to think about, there is something to testify for. Even before when he was seeing Tris' reaction, he had hoped that it was nothing more than shock and horror at recognising someone she knew. He had hoped that the worst did not happen. But it did. She just confirmed it. The _bastard_ had touched her and Peter had to use all of his self-control to not burst out and do something he'll regret.

_How dare he. Didn't he know what Tris had been through? Didn't he care? Tris didn't deserve this. Not her, of all people. How could he do that to her. How could anyone think of hurting her this way._

But he had to control himself. The last thing Tris needed was for him to scare her. He needed to remain calm and strong for her. So he took a deep breath and stood up to bring the empty noodle pots to the sink, and asked her if she wanted to watch a film. She nodded yes.

* * *

The silence was unsettling. They had been sitting on the sofa for a good half hour now. _Stardust_ was playing on the TV, but neither of them were in the mood to really follow the story.

Peter sneaked a few cautious sideway glances towards Tris. She too stared at the screen with a blank expression, clearly not processing any of the image. Occasionally she inhaled a deep breath and sighed.

This could not go on, he decided, she had to let it out or it'll eat her alive. It had already been eating her alive. So, tentatively, and as gently as he could, he spoke up first.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Tris looked up with a start, then furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Sometimes it's better to let these things out to someone." He explained.

Tris shook her heads and looked down. "That's okay, too. You don't have to talk. But I'm here if you need." He told her, unsure of what to do next.

There was another few minutes of silence, then came the small broken voice of Tris for the first time that night.

"I was a fool for believing him. I wanted a normal life and someone to help me so much. I was so desperate." She choked out, breath hitching in her throat. "Then he went along and did - did that and I just couldn't…"

Tris broke off, burying her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. Peter scorched over without a moment of hesitation scooped her up into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and clung to him tightly, speaking into his arms.

"I never told anyone about this. Not Christina, not Caleb. I was so scared they would judge me, blame me for being so stupid. Hate me for making such a big deal out of this. Sometimes even I hate myself for letting this happen." She whispered.

Peter squeezed her shoulders lightly, speaking with the most amount of determination he could muster.

"It's not your fault, Tris. You mustn't, _mustn't_ blame yourself for this." He pushed Tris away from his own chest so he could look at her in her eyes, "Look at me, Tris. Do you understand? _It's not your fault._ Promise me you won't ever think like that again."

She didn't look convinced, so he pressed on. "That man, he was a bastard. He was a sick son of a bitch. It was wrong, sick and wrong to take advantage of you, or anyone, like that. He did this to you, it's not _your_ fault. Okay?"

She nodded softly. Peter pulled her into a hug again, satisfied. "You're safe now," He murmured, "No one will touch yo again. I won't allow it."

She looked up from his chest, her wide, round eyes a crystal shade of greyish-blue that were so vulnerable. They were glossy with unshed tear that she refused to let fall again, questioning him silently.

He knew what he was about to do was a horrible idea. There were a million ways it could go wrong and ruin whatever friendship they had managed to build over the past month. But he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Still, when he leaned in he did so slowly to give Tris ample time to realise his intention and pull away if she wished. Part of him desperately hoped she would.

But to his surprise, she neither pulled away nor flinched when his lips finally reached hers.

* * *

Here are some secrets about Peter Hayes.

One, that was his first kiss.

There were times in his life where he'd come close. On the balcony of the History classroom with Allison Spencer when he was fifteen, Emma Williams in her room the night before the choosing ceremony, Molly Atwood the week after transferring to Dauntless… But he had always been the one to pull away last minute, muttered an awkward joke and fled from their annoyed faces.

Molly always smirked and called him chicken, and after a while he'd stopped protesting or defending himself. He'd always think to himself that it wasn't true. He just wasn't interested, is all. But he'd known plenty of boys who weren't interested as well, and they'd fooled around nonetheless. _It's called being candour,_ he'd argued in his head, _the girls don't deserve someone to kiss them without meaning it, it's not right_. But deep down, he knew the problem was with him, not them.

Two, this wasn't the first time he'd thought about kissing Tris.

He never told anyone this, but he'd always seen her in the corridors at school when he was still in Candour and she was still in Abnegation. She had always been small and formal, sitting upright in the front of every classroom, writing furiously away in Faction History, chewing on her pencil in Foundation Maths… He'd always looked at her tiny frame and wondered what it would be like kissing those little plain lips.

It wasn't that he liked her or anything. Sometimes imaginations go wild when you think about what it would be like to date or kiss someone. But that was nothing more than fantasy. He believed, at the time, that he could never fall in love with an Abnegation stiff. Well, look at him now.

Three, it was both everything and nothing like he'd imagined.

She was soft and sweet. He inhaled her fig scented perfume as he nibbled gently on her lower lip. She smiled against his mouth and eased into the kiss. Shyly at first then becoming more bold and initiative.

But she was in a way so much fiercer than his fourteen year old self have imagined. The good kind of fierce, of course. With a kind of desperate need and burning passion. Tris never ceased to amaze him. He never could have thought that an Abnegation girl with such a small fragile frame could fight with such storm, or kiss with such fire.

* * *

When he finally broke away, he looked her in those mild, tender eyes again, and extended his hand to hold her rosy cheek, stroking her lips with his thumb.

"I'm going to make him pay, Tris." He said sincerely. "I'm going to do everything I could, I promise. I'll not rest until I see his sorry ass rot in jail."

He wished that there were words to tell her how the small smile formed on her mouth meant the world to him.


	13. Tris

Tris sat propped up against the wall on her bed, a book open in her lap even though she hasn't flipped a single page for the last five minutes. At this point in time, she had given up on even trying to read the first sentence over and over again. She didn't know what the book was called, or why she was even trying. It's not like there was anyone in the house at the moment. No. She was pretending for herself, and it wasn't working.

She thought music would help. Which is why she had her earphones in at moment as well. But the shuffle function on her device must have had another agenda in mind, because everything playing right now reminded her of the confusing mess that was her life.

_"_ _Dangerous,_  
_Your love was always dangerous._  
_And now I'm lost in us,  
_ _We're living in a lying trust."_

Tris sighed and shook her head. Was she overthinking this? Was she steering into dangerous territory? Was what she had with Peter nothing more than a _lying trust_? Had she truly lost herself in an ideal impression of what she could have with him and became blinded and delusional?

She was lost. On the one hand she regretted nothing. It had felt so very natural and right. She had wanted it every bit as he did. On the other, she was scared. If someone who seemed as harmless as _Dominic_ could do what he did, then wouldn't her relationship with Peter be doomed to fail from the start? Peter, who had proven himself time and again to be untrustworthy before?

The front door clicked and she heard her brother's voice chuckling in the entrance corridor. It seems the two had returned from their third date. Tris debated whether or not to go out and meet them for a brief moment, but eventually decided against it.

"You wanna come in?" She heard Christina ask. Caleb must have nodded a yes because two pairs of footsteps trudged into the flat without a verbal response. Fleeting moments later, her brother's dark hair appeared round the corner, followed by the tall, slender frame of Christina.

Tris looked up and broke into a wide grin, taking out an earbud and snapping her book shut.

"So?" she asked, wriggling her eyebrows up at them. "How'd it go?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "It's a date, Tris, nothing special. Same as the previous two dates. Although I must admit I left slightly more educated on the subject of EGR dampers than before."

Tris snorted. Trust her brother to give a lecture on car engine parts during what was supposed to be a romantic date.

Caleb, on the other hand, was busy staring at her book.

" _Picture of Dorian Gray_." He remarked, sounding genuinely impressed. "Excellent choice. Didn't know you were a Wilde fan."

"A wild fan of what?" Christina asked, making Tris giggle while Caleb shot both of them an exasperated look.

"What I mean is, it's nice to see you showing some interest in classic literature, Tris. If you want recommendations, I'd be happy to help out."

"Yeah, thanks." Tris responded dryly, "but I really don't think I'm the right person to be talking about this to. I mean if you want sophisticated conversations about books, Peter's a better candidate than I am. I'm only reading this because the other day he-"

She trailed off, eyes growing wide at the realisation of what she'd let slip. Despite the constant torment that her mind had given her over the past few days about the kiss, she had still grown accustomed to his presence in her life. As a result, her guard had been slipping and more times than ever she had to catch herself to not let the name rush past her lips around Christina and Caleb like it did just now.

The warmths in the atmosphere disappeared by the second as Tris could practically hear Christina's mind whirring and clicking, trying to process what she just said and coming to a seemingly impossible conclusion. Her brother, on the other hand, seemed a bit slow in catching up and is now staring, confused, at his newfound girlfriend.

"Peter?" Christina asked in a low tone, dangerously murderous.

"Um, yeah." Tris confirmed, trying to sound nonchalant, like some rebellious teenager facing the full wrath of their mother with the defence of " _mum, it's no big deal!_ "

"Peter _Hayes_?"

"I ran into him a couple months ago, we've been reconnecting a little bit."

If the atmosphere in the room had been cold before, it was definitely completely frozen over now. In fact, the perceived temperature seemed to have dropped so much below freezing point the it can now rival the cans of liquid nitrogen Christina had been shipping around the lab a couple days ago.

The three people had gone completely silent. Only light huffing noises from their breaths remained. The situation strangely reminded Tris of a childhood memory from when she and Caleb were six or seven- it was during a thunderstorm when their father showed them the method of counting the seconds between lightning flashes and thunder sounds to find the distance away from them at which the lighting stroke.

The idea, she remembered, was for every 5 seconds, the lightning was a further mile away. She had lost interest pretty quickly. But Caleb had been absolutely captivated by the activity, eagerly awaiting every new strike of lighting and chanting numbers loudly, announcing the distance every time with a huge, broad grin on his face, earning approved smiles and claps from mum and dad.

She supposed it made the deadening silence after the flashes bearable, and it turned the rumbles of thunder into something anticipated and celebrated, rather than the terrible crunching sounds that shook you to the bones.

This time, however, no one was counting the seconds. This time when the thunderclap arrived, all hell broke loose.

* * *

" _Peter Hayes_? _That's_ was who you've been hanging out with for the past two months?!" Christina screamed.

"Yes. Chris. And I don't understand why you're freaking out so much."

"You don't understand- Jesus flipping Christ, Tris, you and I have been living in very different universes. The Peter Hayes that tried to kill you? The Peter Hayes that tormented us both for years? The Peter Hayes that you hated guts?"

"No, Chris. Not _that_ Peter Hayes." She whispered softly. "He's changed. We've all changed."

"Doesn't mean he didn't do all the shits from before!" Christina was obviously still not buying it. "Oh my God. If I had known you were spending nights with _Peter Hayes_! I'm actually surprised you still have both eyes intact, Tris!"

"I'm not saying he didn't do the shits from before." Tris reasoned, incredibly tired. "I'm just saying that it's a fresh start. We can finally have a chance to be normal people living a normal life in a city that does not have messed up rules and laws. We can finally put down the shits from before that I've done and you've done and he's done and other people's done. We can finally forget about those and try to move on."

As she was saying this Tris became suddenly clear in her reasoning. She was reminded of one of her favourite songs that she'd found a couple month ago from the old library archives.

_"_ _I'm ready for the fall_  
_I'm ready for everything that I believed in to drift away_  
_Ready for the leaves  
_ _Ready for the colours to burn to gold and crumble away"_

She finally knew why Peter had attracted her so. She finally saw how this was right. This was what they would have been from the start in another life, in another world. Now, thanks to the war, what would have been two separate lives and universes collided, and she had finally taken a leap through the crater to the other side, the other life.

Just as her old one crumbled to dust.

Christina still didn't look convinced, so she pressed on. "This is what you wanted for me, isn't it, Chris? To move on? Well I'm doing just that. I'm doing what I must to move on. Just give me a chance to figure it out, okay? Just give him a chance, too. I've a good feeling about this."

Doubt lingered on her friend's face for a couple seconds longer, but soon gave way to a reluctant, tired, but nonetheless proud smile.

"Of course, Tris." Christina decided, sitting down on her bed next to her and pulling her in for a hug. "Sorry for over-reacting."

_"_ S'alright, Chris. I know it doesn't always seem like it but I appreciate the protectiveness of you and Caleb. Really."

Tris felt something warm up within her. It's like finding a long lost hair clip, or a treasured pen that you've owned some ten years ago. Or when you stumble upon an old photograph of your childhood self and involuntarily smile back at your own toothy grin. She felt like it was more than mending a lost friendship. She felt like she had found a piece of herself again.

In the midst of reconciliation, neither girls noticed that Caleb had long left the apartment.

* * *

"So, what did you two even reconnect about? _"Hey Peter, remember when I shot you in the arm? Good times, good times!"_?"

They had been lying in bed, forty minutes later, with the lights switched off, awaiting sleep. Tris grinned at the strange morbid humour of Christina's that she had missed so dearly.

"Actually, we did surprising little reconnection. For reasons I'm you have so eloquently touched upon."

From somewhere to the right of her came the snort of Christina. "So where are you guys at with this whole thing, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has he asked you out yet?"

"Nope." Tris said lightly. This wasn't exactly a lie, she figured. Christina made a tsk-ing sound in response.

"Shame. Psychopathic tendencies aside, I've always thought he was kind of hot."

" _Christina!_ " Tris exclaimed in a hushed tone, exasperated.

Tris thought Peter to be many things. But _hot_ was definitely never one of them. He was good-looking, of course, with his angelic face and dark green eyes and shiny black hair. But it had never been… Tobias-hot. Utterly adorable was the more fitting phrase for him.

Unknowingly to Christina, her previous comment have struck a particular chord with Tris. _So where are we exactly with this whole thing?_ Her mind echoed her friend's question. She didn't know. Mainly because she had no idea where Peter was coming from with the kiss. She could still taste his soft sweet lips faintly on hers. It had felted genuine enough. But much to gentle to determine if it was mean to be a comforting gesture or a sign of affection.

She told her mind to rest. Now that the cat's out of the bag, she will go visit him. They'll talk it out. Something, Tris noted, she was getting increasingly better at doing over the past couple months. They'll take the next step together. For the time being, however…

"We're just friends." Tris confirmed out loud, albeit more for herself than to her roommate.

Another snort. Tris smiled to herself and shifted in her bed. Glad that Christina could not see the stupid grin on her face, she drifted into an easy sleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick spotlight on the major references within the chapter
> 
> 1\. I Don't Know Why by Imagine Dragons  
> Yes, the lyrics that Tris was listening to in the beginning was actually what inspired this chapter in the first place! It's the opening track from Imagine Dragons' (best band ever, bless them) new album, Evolve. I was quite unsure which direction I wanted to take this story but as soon as I heard it on the day it came out I knew immediately that I needed a chapter like this where Tris tries to figure everything out! This song is sO Petris I URGE you to check it out!
> 
> 2\. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde  
> The book Tris was reading! Peter's favourite, by the way. I just feel like the plot has something very Peter-y. In Divergent, when Christina mentioned Peter hiding behind his Candour reputation and angelic features when he was young to be mischievous, I was immediately reminded of this! Plus I am just SUCH a huge Wilde fan he is the BEST. Also did y'all enjoy that Christina pun? :D I know I'm going to hell for that.
> 
> 3\. The Fall by Imagine Dragons  
> In case it wasn't obvious, I'M AN IMAGINE DRAGONS FAN OKAY literally all the song references are going to be about them. It felt kind of abrupt to chuck that bit of lyrics in there, actually, not as natural as the first song reference. But as I was writing down the word "crumble" I was immediately reminded of the song and couldn't resist including it. The whole song is just so TRIS especially in this fic.


	14. Tris

"Back again, are we?"

Tris had been climbing up the stairs while silently cursing the lack of elevators and the fact that Peter owned a loft apartment, when she ran into the nice old lady who lived downstairs of Peter on the fifth floor landing. She smiled warmly up at her and Tris couldn't help but pull her own face into an awkward smile as well.

"It's nice to see the boy finding himself a lovely girl and settling down." She commented sincerely, "he's such a sweetheart. You've got yourself a keeper." The old lady added, nodding at Tris, who could do nothing but continue smiling and nodding back. After all, she was rather reluctant to explain the large, complex mess that she and Peter was in at the moment, especially since she wasn't even sure she understood herself.

_But after today, all might seem clearer_ , she thought, and continued the task of climbing the stairs.

* * *

Immediately after she knocked, the door swung open and Peter's warm grin and baby blue apron greeted her at the doorway.

"Right on time!" He said cheerily, ushering her into the dining area and pulling up a chair at the table with his oven-mitted hand. "I hope you like lasagna!" He chirped.

"Actually, I'm kind of allergic to the pasta sheets." Tris remarked with a deadpan face, trying to resist the urge to smile when Peter's face became the splitting image of panic and disappointment.

"You're not serious."

She couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. Peter stared at her with utter confusion. "Oh, my lord, Peter, you should have seen your own face!" She gasped in between giggles and hiccups.

Peter sighed and dug the plate of lasagna out from the oven, splitting it onto two plates. Tris had to admit that it smelled simply delicious.

"Mhmm. That does smell good." She sighed.

"Trust me, it tastes even better." Peter promised. And it did.

As they sat and ate silently across each other, Tris wondered why it was so hard to bring up the subject that she had intended to discuss for so long. _Just open your mouth_ , she instructed herself, _ask. Ask about that night, ask about what he wants._

But for some reason the words keeps getting drowned out in her throat. Eventually she gave up and settled for small-talk instead, thinking that she had the whole afternoon to get there.

"Ran into that old lady again downstairs." She informed him. Peter looked up from his plate.

"Oh, Mrs. Whitehall? She's the sweetest."

"She seems to be under the impression that you have found yourself a nice girlfriend in me." Tris probed experimentally.

"Yeah. She seems to be fixated on that idea. Pretty sure she has labelled me her adoptive grandson by now. Embarrasses me every time when I bring girls over."

Tris found herself looking up at this, surprised. "And you do that often?"

"Nah. Just friendly chilling out with co-workers from the office. Sometimes they turn into dates, but very rarely. Haven't had much luck with romances and stuff. Not that I try very hard."

"And why is that?" She questioned, now genuinely interested.

"I don't know. I guess is old Candour habits rubbing off on me. I don't like to do things I don't mean and I've never really been interested in having a romantic thing with any girls I've met before. I've never been a fooling around kind of guy. Molly used to tease me about having a chronic fear of girls. Especially the kissing part."

"Wait, you meant to say that you've never…" Tris asked, trailing off as she became increasingly horrified.

"Kissed a girl before?" Peter finished the question for her, grinning weakly. "Nope."

"So, the other night. That was your…? _I_ was your…?"

"First kiss? Yeah."

Peter's cheeks were now red as beetroots under Tris' wide-eyed stare. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he finally looked up to meet her gaze, as opposed to studying the fillings in what was left of his lasagna.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong? Was it a bad kiss?" He inquired uncomfortably.

"What? No!" Tris suddenly exclaimed, startled at the wrong impression that she seemed to be giving him. She sighed and hesitated. How could she begin to explain what it felt like?

It certainly wasn't a bad kiss. It wasn't a _hot_ kiss, either. Not because of the quality, but because a hot kiss was something you labelled a passionate making out session when you're deeply in love and desperate to take in all that your lover was.  
That kiss… It wasn't all that. It was more like a hug- holding each other close as everything around them slipped away from reality. It wasn't explosions or fireworks; it was lovely, childish paper cuttings. It wasn't burning fire; it was glowing Dauntless coal. It was warm, sticky caramel covering an apple; it was sweet wind blowing over springtime meadows; it was like nothing she's ever had before.

It was perfect.

"It wasn't a bad kiss." She reassured, frustrated for lack of a better word. "Not at all. It was really nice."

"Yeah? Cool. I liked it too." Peter mumbled.

"So," Tris asked, deciding to test her luck again. "You said that you didn't kiss girls unless you meant it. So when you kissed me…"

Peter smiled a very un-Peter-like smile, timid and uncertain. "I meant it. For real. I really did."

Tris let out a long breath. She didn't know what she was hoping for, or if she should feel relieved, happy, or disappointed. But at least they both felt the same way, that's a solid start.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Wherever you like. The world is your oyster." Peter shrugged, grinning once again, then, as an afterthought, he added, "I personally would love to ask you out on a date. But as I said, totally and completely up to you."

"Hmm…" Tris replied, cocking her hair to one side and pretending to ponder the choice over carefully. Even though she knew already that her answer was going to be _yes_. "I don't know, what kind of date do you have in mind?"

"Something nice. Something we haven't done already. Like a picnic down at the beach at ten in the evening."

"Sounds fun." She agreed, even though secretly she wasn't a huge fan of beaches. But she knew she was quite a big fan of Peter at that point, so that was okay. "Consider me in."

They grinned at each other like the big dorks that they were, until Peter stood up and collected their now finished plates.

"I'll text you, then." He said from in front of the kitchen sink.

"Mhmhm, yeah." Tris replied half-heartedly. "I have to go. Promised Caleb I'd help organise his apartment."

"Oh. Okay."

"Thanks for the lunch, by the way. Loved the cooking."

"Ha. No problem. Feel free to drop by for food whenever you feel like."

"Yeah. Will do. The lasagna was so much better than spaghetti, though."

Peter turned around at this and followed her to the front door. "How very dare you." He said with a fake pout, leaning against the doorframe.

Tris laughed and stood up on tiptoes, pecking him on the cheek and turned to head down the stairs, hearing the faint click of the door as it shut behind her.

* * *

She pulled another old book off the shelf, coughing at the dust that had been thrown into the air by the movement. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out her brother with a book in each hand, deciding the order in which to stack them.

"The Merchant… Of Venice." She read from the worn hardcover.

"That one stays." Caleb commanded, looking over in her direction.

"Caleb," Tris sighed, "you haven't thrown a single book away this entire afternoon."

"Yeah, I have." Her brother protested, pointing at the pathetically thin pile in the corner of the room, "those."

"Where did you even get this many books anyway?" Tris muttered as she picked up the entire collection of _William Shakespeare's Star Wars_.

"I got first dibs when they gave them away after the War, during the reform of the library."

As factions have been eradicated, it was decided that the library should be made public rather than enclosed in the Erudite quarters as it had been before. Now it was its own building right next to the town hall, expenses paid for by the City Council.

"So Chris tells me you guys made up." Caleb remarked casually.

"Yeah. I do hope so." Tris replied. "I get the feeling, though, that she still disapproves of my association with Peter."

"You have to understand, Beatrice, that he hurt her too. Just because you've put down the past doesn't mean she will. Not so fast, at least."

"Yeah." Tris mumbled halfheartedly, reminded of all the childhood lectures she received from him on the spirit of Abnegation and whatnot.

"You know, you've never expressed _your_ view on the matter." She remarked a moment later, noticing how he left without commenting the other night.

Caleb shrugged. "What views?"

"Do you have no problems with this whole thing at all?"

"Beatrice, you know I don't hate Peter as you all did. By the time I met him, things had already been in chaos. There had been no room for the violence and general jerkiness that you described. Survival comes first. Plus, I think I was the least of his concern. We left each other relatively alone most of the time."

"Fair enough." Tris replied, picking up another series of books and stacking them on the shelf above, not even bothering to ask Caleb if he wanted to keep it, knowing the answer would be yes anyway.

"I just want you to be careful, and not to do something you would regret, or something that would hurt you."

"Yeah. Okay. Noted."

They worked in silence for about half an hour. Moving around each other in the room like some sort of harmonised waltz. Tris loved the tranquility. She loved the unquestioned co-ordination and the feeling of her brother's strong presence. Silent yet unwavering.

It brought back memories of their teenage years, when they had been old enough to cook but young enough to not have gone into the different factions that they did yet. When they would cut up vegetables and boil water and cook plain chicken breasts, dividing the tasks up between them, not communicating but feeling their bonds strengthening with each passing second.

In those scarce moments, it was undeniable that they were siblings.

"You never told us what happened," Caleb asked finally, his voice evidently tentative and uncertain, as if he wasn't sure if he would get an answer, "with Dom."

Tris felt her shoulders stiffen immediately. Caleb and Christina rarely mentions him but whenever they do, it makes Tris extremely uncomfortable. Tris couldn't quite put her finger on it but she suspects it was because of the way they addressed the man- _Dom_. The way they spoke his name made it sound like they still liked him, which Tris guessed they did. It made it sound like they were talking about some classmates from school with whom they lost contact with. It made it sound casual, and not at all close to the horrifying event that Tris had to endure.

She had to remind herself that it wasn't their fault and that she had never told them the truth and given them a reason to think differently. Still, it unsettled her deeply.

"I know you guys broke up. We were able to work out that much. But the way you acted… It makes one think there was something much more than that."

_There was. There was. Oh, Caleb, you have no idea._

"Did you guys fight? Did he dump you?"

_I wish I could tell you, dear brother, I wish desperately that I could._

"Beatrice. Whatever it is, you can count on me. I know I haven't given you much reason to trust me in the past but that's over. Whatever happens, I'm here for you. Whatever you do, I'll stand by you."

_But don't you see. Don't you see, Caleb, that you're not the problem? It's me. I wish I was strong enough to tell you. But I'm not. I have never been strong enough._

"Christina and I. We'll both stand by you."

Tris gulped and looked up into those sincere, light green eyes of her brother. She nodded slightly. "I know." She croaked. "Thank you."

She wished she could tell them how much love and care she could feel from them. She wanted them to know that she appreciated it so much, that even if it didn't look like it, she would not have made it this far without both of them.

"It's complicated." She took a deep breath and explained, ignoring the concerned and confused look on Caleb's face. "I'm not ready to explain all of it yet, and I don't know when I'll be. But I will. One day I will tell you and Chris about it. I promise." And this time, she meant it.

Caleb nodded and smiled at her. She smiled back.


	15. Christina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains non-graphic mentions of rape and sexual assault.  
> Also swearing. A lot of those.

An additional faint, rich humming had been introduced to the lab when they brought the high-powered electromagnets in. It had been oddly calming at first, and improved the atmosphere and mood of the team significantly with it strange, meditative qualities.

However, by the end of the first week, it began to creep everyone out. Now, two and a half weeks in, the place is tumbling rapidly into complete chaos and desperation. Christina was pretty sure that hairs were starting to fall out, people were going slightly deaf from attempting to tune out the sound, glassware were being knocked down by distracted hands… everything was agony.

A couple employees tried blasting Taylor Swift to flood out the noise. Which worked for a while, until Lyall filed a complaint with the head of the research department, and so the behaviour has been banned, and everyone had no choice but to revert back to the state of complete mental meltdown.

It was on one of these ordinary days of arranging phials of fine copper oxide powder while attempting to keep the veins in her ears from bursting that Caleb strolled into the lab.

He walked purposefully to where she stood and approached her from the back, putting both arms around her waist so they met at her stomach, enclosing her in his warmth and breathing in the scent of her hair.

Christina spun round. " _Cabe._ " She hissed.

When they first started going out the two had reached upon mutual agreement that there would be no display of affection in the labs. It wasn't that they were hiding or lying about their relationship, it's just that they didn't want to draw attention to it. After all, it's not as if Lyall needed more things to hold against them.

"Sorry, sorry." Caleb apologised, letting go. He rubbed the base of his neck guiltily and stared at Christina adoringly with his light green eyes. Christina suppressed the smile rising up at the corner of her lips.

"Anything you need in particular? Or did you walk across half the building just to cuddle?"

"Ah yes. I was wondering if I could get a run on the laser heater?"

"Sure, I'll go get it booted up. Mind me asking why?"

"Yeah. I was just doing research into the Type IIs and I thought if we could get it to expel a magnetic field and then raise the temperature with the laser, the vortex loop could technically undergo a second-order phase transition, which means we could potentially get a condensate on the-"

"Okay, I get the idea." Christina said, cutting him off, though not unkindly. "Or not really. Sorry I asked." She joked.

Caleb snorted and put down the thick dictionary-like book in his hand, reaching over to the lab use form to log an entry. Christina sneaked a peek towards the cover, it was something on quantum vortices, which she guessed was probably what brought on this round of inspired experimentation.

Over the past three weeks Caleb had been furiously reading up on everything to do with the new subject of research. The new phase of research has been straying into intense physics territory and past his area of speciality- nano-chemistry. But Caleb had refused to let himself be rendered dispensable and useless.

Christina wished she had the amount of determination and passion as Caleb did, to allow her to give more than a rat's ass about the project. Fortunately for her, her own job description rarely requires her to do anything more complex than counting up to 20, so all is good.

The laser machine whirred to life and Caleb sprang into action, plugging in the data collector and mounting his test subject. Christina could do nothing more than handing him a pair of goggles and stand awkwardly to the side, watching.

Caleb worked with grace and swiftness. Watching him was nothing short of watching a well choreographed ballet or waltz or masquerade… he moved- or rather glided- with soft, cantabile movements laced with certainty and strength. It also helped his case that he looked so very aesthetically pleasing. His dark hair gleamed with excitement that matches the intensity of his slightly squinted eyes behind rectangular glasses. His mouth was pulled into a pout as fingers crossed and uncrossed to work at the floating electromagnet.

Christina drew a shaky breath and closed her gaping mouth. She picked up the tray of phials again and started stacking them into the drawers.

"Where's Tris today?" She asked, trying to sound nonchalant by not facing Caleb as she talked.

"Out on a date." Caleb replied without looking up.

"With Peter?"

"No, with an African Buffalo named Steve."

Christina rolled her eyes and scowled into the lab trays. " _I wish._ " She muttered under her breath. Across the room, Caleb gave a dry chuckle which was almost drowned out by the loud, cheerful hum of the large electromagnet.

"Still don't like him, I see?"

" _Like_ is a strong word. I'd go with don't _trust_ him."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're just bothered she went to Peter for intimacy and support over us both?"

"I haven't reached that stage of thinking yet, thank you very much." She spat back at him. Caleb didn't respond. "Why," she added after a while, "are you bothered about that?"

Even though she wasn't facing him, Christina could feel the easy shrug rolling off Caleb's shoulders. "Not really. I think maybe she needs someone who she isn't that close with. Someone who expects less of her."

"Well there are lots of hot strangers on the streets. She can take her fucking pick."

Caleb sighed. "Most people know her, or think they know her, one way or another. Either she's the war hero or she's the annoying little girl who stumbled into the spotlight. They've got this image of Tris in their minds that's hard to alter. Peter never bought into those. I think that's why she feels at ease with him."

"I guess." Christina said flatly, unconvinced.

* * *

Caleb had finished his investigation about two hours later. Christina was cooling down the machine and shutting it off properly while Caleb tidied up the messy figures on his clipboard paper, arranging it into legible columns.

At this moment, Megan, the loud, blonde intern stumbled into the room holding a copy of the latest issue of newspaper, her face alit with excitement. Christina and Caleb exchanged knowing glances.

Megan Waterston had been among the first few to be admitted into the newly established Chicago University, studying natural sciences. She was in her Junior year and had found an intern position at their lab during the winter holidays, hoping to secure some reputation before joining upon graduation. She was loud, bubbly but nonetheless extremely competent. Everyone liked her a lot due to her sunny personality. However, her addiction to juicy gossip, especially on famous, rich men was not exactly a secret within the community.

"Duuuuuuuuude!" Megan exclaimed as she flapped the greyish paper in the air, eyebrows turned in such a way that indicated heavy, intense stuff.

"You're _not_ going to believe this!" As she said this, Christina and Caleb silently mouthed the words with her- this has been a running gag within the researchers, mouthing Megan's catchphrase while she said them. It wasn't meant to be a rude thing, in fact they were pretty sure Megan knew about it too. But it had been fun to do.

"You know that hot blonde Candour dude who owns Emerald Vision?" She squeaked, making Christina and Caleb's attention instantly perk up.

"The car company?"

"Oh, it's _much_ more than that! It also researches and invests in renewable car fuels and hovercraft fuels. That company has to be worth _millions_ of dollars! Did you know that I considered applying for my internship in their research department? Of course, I ended up coming here because it was closer to home, but still. _Everyone_ wants to work for Emerald Vision, not to mention the CEO? He's _dreamy_."

"Yeah? Cool." Christina dismissed impatiently, feeling a bit guilty when Megan looked a little hurt. However her face quickly lit up when Christina asked for further information. "So you were saying about this guy?"

"Ah, yes. Anyway it was just leaked the day before that the police department was investigating him for _serial rape_! Can you believe? Who would have thought, _Dominic Michael Martinson_ , a rapist! A _serial_ rapist, nonetheless!"

Christina and Caleb exchanged horrified glances. Megan, too busy and caught up in her rant, did not seem to notice.

"I mean I wonder why he didn't buy them off? I mean don't get me wrong, I'm so glad he didn't. But he's rich isn't he? He could totally have bought the police force off if he wanted. It's strange that he didn't… _Dear lord_ is that the time? I have to go guys, Mr. Lyall wants me to file these reports by six!"

Megan fluttered off, seemingly unfazed by the disgusting information that she just dumped on her fellow researchers. Christina wondered how anyone could talk about such a topic with so much enthusiasm and energy. She didn't know whether to be more terrified by Megan herself or the bucketload of information she just doused them with.

The two stood in stunned silence for a long time, not daring to look up at each other or anything but the floor.

Finally, Caleb broke the silence with a simple, two worded phrase.

"Well _shit._ "

 _Well shit indeed_ , Christina thought, because there really wasn't much else to say. What can you even say to these things? Dom? Golden-haired, wide-smiled, caring _Dom_? Suddenly her head started hurting and she felt the room spinning. So she pulled up a stool and sat down, watching wordlessly as Caleb padded to the workbench where Megan left the newspaper, and picked it up.

The rustling of grey paper was harsh and raw, scraping against the hungry silence.

* * *

"Care to explain what this is about?" Christina spat hotly, throwing the same newspaper down on the bed in front of Tris, looming over her with her arms crossed.

" _Christina_." Caleb hissed behind her, alarmed. Dimly Christina was aware of the fact that Caleb had just used her full name, which he only did in times of dire need. She supposed he meant to tell her to calm down, to not make a scene out of this, to take a softer approach, etc. etc.

But all she felt was _rage, rage, rage_.

Rage at this poor excuse of a- even a human being- let alone a charming, rich man. Rage at Tris for bottling this up and pushing them away. Rage at herself for ever doubting her best friend and not trying harder to protect her. Rage at _fucking_ Caleb and his _fucking_ composure.

"Can you please fucking tell me what all this is?" She breathed through clenched teeth and rage at a startled Tris, gesturing towards the newspaper article with Martinson's _sickening_ smile on it. _Could they not have used a more fitting photo? In a prison jumpsuit? Like a mugshot?_

Tris glanced down at the article laying in front of her. Her face drew up into a mixture of pure horror and confusion as she tentatively picked the paper up and read the headline. Christina watched quietly as Tris squeezed her eyes shut and gulped, her heart heavy and longing to place an arm round Tris' shaking shoulders.

Finally, Tris let out a small, controlled breath, and opened her mouth shakily. "I think there isn't much left to explain." She replied weakly.

And just like that, anger flared inside Christina once again. _Here she goes pushing us away again, even when she thought she had had her cornered and have to open up to them, there she goes digging a hole on the ground beneath her very feet and crawling inside too._

It frustrated Christina to ends.

"I suppose _Peter_ knows about it already." She bit out bitterly, making more of a statement than a question.

Tris nodded mutely anyway, and suddenly Christina felt the urge to punch something.

"Only because he had been assigned to investigate the case." Tris added hastily, but with a newfound air of defiance.

 _Oh, so now she was defending that fucker?_ Christina felt a fresh wave of betrayal rippling through her veins. Tris chose him over her. She chose an arrogant, cocky, sadistic bully over her best friend. She chose to confide in someone worse than a stranger over Christina, who had always been here for her, or at least tried her best to be.

 _"_ _Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're just bothered she went to Peter for intimacy and support over us both?"_ Caleb's voice echoed in her head. _Yes. Yes it did._

She felt so tired, after putting down her own troubles and grief over losing so many people to the war, the trauma caused in her mind as well as Tris', burying it all deep down because her friend needed her more. This is what she got in return. Tris not trusting her, not confiding in her, locking herself up and pushing her away ungratefully, and turning to _Peter_ no less.

Why was she even trying again?

"You know what, Tris, I can't. I just can't." She said to her, throwing her arms up in the air and shaking her head, and stalked out of their room.

Christina was both surprised and a little guilty to find Caleb following at her heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! We caught up with fanfcition.net! Yay amirite?? Now the hiatus begins~~~


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